The Truth of Consequences
by Crystal Shekeira
Summary: G1. Autobots Solarflare and Flamestrike set off on a training exercise with Decepticon defector Dart, to gauge the extent of her new loyalty. But those ties are suddenly called into question, leaving Dart to the consequences of her actions.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This fic contains several characters who do not belong to me. Flamestrike is the property of Tyrrlin; Dart is the property of Korat; SilverSide is owned by Lizkay; Crosstalk is owned by Zoaerven. All have been used with permission. Any additional characters not of cannon origin came from me. For those familiar with Korat's Dart, this fic is AU to her cannon tale, but would be considered cannon to the _Solarflare Chronicles_.

The Truth of Consequences  
**It is the year 2003 …**

Chapter One  
_After all that you put me through,  
__You think I'd despise you,  
__But in the end I wanna thank you,  
__'Cause you've made me that much stronger  
_—Christina Aguilera, **Fighter**

The boxy red and grey mech walked with a jaunty flair in his step, listening to music only he could hear. His playful steps were somewhat subdued by the time he entered the packed mess hall, but close quarters never daunted him. Shout-outs were answered with resounding enthusiasm and a tip of two fingers towards the intended party; his other hand remained wrapped around a small box. For once, his quarry was not easily located; lost in a sea of colorful bodies – both Cybertronian and human – the mech had to make a complete circuit of the hall before he spotted her. _Sneaky femme_, he thought with a smile.

Chief Communications Officer Blaster slid into the seat opposite his partner, Junior Communications Officer Solarflare – or "Flare", as she preferred to be called amongst friends. The winged grey femme was studiously bent over several datapads, three empty glasses with Energon residue scattered around the table. A fourth lay close at hand, next to a pad filled with scribbles.

Blaster grinned. "Since when are you doin' work off-duty?" He set the package carefully on the table and signaled a human barista for a flask of high-grade. Solarflare did not immediately answer; in most Cybertronians, this behavior would have been considered rude, but Flare had an excuse. Her avian set of cortex led her to occasionally block out everything around her save for the task at hand. After living and fighting in the femme's company for so long, Blaster knew what to do. He reached across the table and gently wriggled Flare's wrist back and forth. The grey femme's head snapped up with an audible _clack_ of helm tines against the smooth dome of her head. Confusion flickered briefly over her sharp white-planed face before recognition set in.

Blaster dutifully repeated himself. Flare grinned. "Since Crosstalk took that hit through the central processor. And before you say that's what Crypto is for, I tried giving this to them – they're overwhelmed. Apparently Crosstalk took on too much responsibility, leaving little for them to know or do about it."

"Hm. Well, I'll take care of that. Anyway, here," and he pushed the coded package across the table. Solarflare tipped her head and set her material aside. "This came for you this afternoon."

Flare tilted the small mauve box from side to side; her golden optics narrowed. "What is it? I wasn't expecting any shipments."

"First Aid an' I were havin' a discussion one day about how you've been havin' a difficult time with the caseload an' all." Across the table, Solarflare nodded thoughtfully, idly keying the code on the box. With a small beep of acceptance, the top popped open. Nestled inside were two small black disks; two black tines were set into each dial. Reflexively, Flare put a hand to the side of her head, where a similar disk was attached.

"Dials?"

Blaster nodded. "You've been waitin' for an upgrade for years, girl. Figured this was a good start."

Solarflare reached in and picked up one of the dials, spinning it around in her hands. It was exactly the same as the ones on either side of her head, save for several wires poking out of the middle. "Primus!" she exclaimed, wings rustling happily against her trylithium spine. "What do they do?"

"Long-range communication," he replied, tapping his boxy chest for emphasis. "Now you'll be able to access the satellites without hookin' up to a comm-unit. I've got some signal-scramblers on order, too." He grinned. "They cost a pretty cred and some huntin', but Prime was all for it. You're all set with Aid this evening to have them installed."

Impulsively, Flare hugged the box to her chestplate, then leapt up from her chair to hug her friend and coworker. "Th-thank you," she stammered, wings and helm tines askew in her embarrassment. She spun in a circle, trying to find her seat – and her dignity. Smoothing errant black steel pinions, she sat down and immediately began turning the devices over and over.

"You deserve it, girl," Blaster affirmed, smiling broadly at her. She did indeed – having to make due with basic parts and those cobbled together over the years. Solarflare hadn't been built with communication in mind, and even with the odds against her, she managed to rise to the occasion time and again. It was only fair that she have access to the same technology that Blaster's creator had imbued in him.

A bell chimed somewhere in the vicinity of Blaster's chestplate. He gave a rueful smile and reached over to flick Flare's tines. "Gotta go, girl; I'll see you later. We'll give those new dials a good spin."

_--_

_You've come a long way, Flare_, she mused with a smile, spinning the dials in her hands, marveling at the engineering. _Seventeen years ago, your goals were so different; now you're giggling over jammers and long-range signals. How things change_.

"A little early for that fat old human in red, isn't it?"

Flare looked up, setting the dials aside, but keeping them as close as possible. A tall, brown and flame-colored femme, whose armor was a clean melding of avian and feline, claimed the chair that Blaster had just vacated. Senior Infiltration Specialist Flamestrike settled her fiery-colored wings over the back of her chair and leaned forward, grey fists on grey chin.

"Ah, but giving shouldn't be limited to a single season," Flare chastised, pushing the box towards her best friend and wingmate.

"What are these?" Flame scrutinized the dials, her green optics widening, optic sensors flicking from the box to the ones on Solarflare's head. "You have a pair already …"

"But these have long-range comm components," Flare told her, trying to keep the giddiness to a minimum. Flamestrike could never understand how important these pieces were to her, not when she had been told the "official" tale of Solarflare's origins.

Flamestrike smiled. "Excellent. I was wondering when they'd come in."

Across the table, Flare's optic shutters fluttered and her wings rustled. "You knew about these?"

Her friend nodded. "In a sort of round-about way – I happened to be in the Bay when Blaster was talking with First Aid. Prowl suggested that when you got them implanted, we'd do a training run."

Flare blew hot air through her vents in amusement. "Of course." Just like Prowl, to suggest such a thing.

Their idle chatter drifted onto more mundane subjects – circling around Flamestrike's latest kill while Solarflare picked up her datapads and went through the contents, keeping an audio open for her friend's matter-of-fact account. This multi-tasking led her to turn her head when a small commotion erupted near the entrance. A tall black and silver femme lingered there momentarily before walking towards a small table on the fringe.

"The courier," Flamestrike noted, following her friend's gaze. Flare nodded and turned back to her datapads. "You'd think that they would get over this novelty," Flamestrike continued.

"Apparently not," the grey femme mumbled, frowning at a line of text.

"What does she do all day? She's not on any roster that I know of. She's been here nearly a year, but I haven't once seen her perform her intended function."

The murmuring wafted towards their table, rumors and idle gossip. "She's still on probation," Flare replied non-committally, making notations on the digipad to her right.

Flamestrike frowned, her grey facial planes not as sharp as her friend's, but the gesture deepened the creases in the malleable metal. "That's not like you, Flare," she chastised, tapping the tabletop for emphasis. "You care about everyone – you even saved her from Turnout."

A whistling sigh escaped the avian femme. _I might have even saved her skidplate from that chunk of slag_, she thought, _but that doesn't automatically make us friends. She was being bullied, and I don't stand for that. Especially when such bullying leads to murder._ She set the pad down and turned to fix her optics on the Decepticon defector, Dart. "Officially, the order is that there's no need for her services. Unofficially … it's about the same. There's worry that she'll run confidential messages right to Megatron." She watched as the black and silver femme accepted a glass of Energon from a male barista; Dart toyed with the glass, her spoiler riding low on her shoulder plates. And then she looked up, staring across the long room and meeting her blue optics to Flare's gold. Avian pride held Solarflare's gaze level – and hopefully non-threatening. Solarflare nodded to the courier femme; Dart broke optic-contact first and dropped her sensors to the glass.

"And what do you think?" The gryphonic femme's quiet query cut through Solarflare's ruminations.

_Yes, what _do_ I think?_ _We have a long history – as brief as actual contact might be. She's Neutral as far as I'm concerned, until Optimus puts an Autobot symbol on that chestplate._ "I don't think she's a threat," she began slowly, thoughtfully. "Her defenses are lower than mine, she has barely any combat skill – but she's quick. Instinctive. I spent several days in MedBay years ago because of those legs."

"Then we'll take her on your training run. After all this time, I don't think she's made any friends – SilverSide avoids her like comic rust. Arcee won't go near her, and _she's_ always making new friends."

Flare nodded, slowly. She set the pads aside and looked across the room. Dart was nursing her drink. _Ease up, girl_, she chastised. _You and Arcee had a long-standing tiff, and you put that aside. Look where you are now – she's a good friend and better comrade. Besides, Dart only tried to kill you once … and I'm not sure she was even trying_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was difficult to explain the sensations of vulnerability Dart felt – especially when she was currently walking through the upper halls of Autobot City. Since the Turnout incident, no one had openly mocked or threatened her. The rumors and gossip remained, however. Back on the Decepticon side, there was always the chance of someone trying to slag you because they didn't like you. Here, it was different. The Autobots stewed on their emotions and only showed how they felt with heated glares and gossip. To them, orders were orders – not guidelines. If she was off-limits, then that was how things were going to be. Megatron's rules were more of the latter; open to interpretation – unless you received a direct order. And by direct, the solider in question was probably dangling off the floor or pinned to it by the warlord's fusion cannon. Dart often found herself wishing for these simpler, uncomplicated times.

_You left_, she reminded herself. _For some of those very same reasons._

The officers' level was daunting. Each door she passed had the name of some ranking Autobot official lasered onto a plaque. Some she recognized – Prowl, Springer, Ultra Magnus – others she did not. Optimus Prime's office was located on the level above this one and required her to walk to the far end of the hall and climb one set of stairs. There was no elevator to the supreme commander's level – the lift simply skimmed past it on the way to the roof.

The black and silver femme paused at the entrance to the stairwell, listening. She'd been this way only twice before – the first time was after she'd dragged herself in on her elbows towards the City, begging asylum; the second time had been after Turnout's aborted attack. This time didn't feel any easier.

What could Optimus Prime want with her, anyway? Could they finally be revoking her probation? If that was the case, she'd be reassigned. The thought of actually being allowed to stretch her servos and _run_ sent an electrical thrill down Dart's trylithium spine. Her spoiler rattled with the very notion of warm breezes filling her ventilators, of the scents and sounds of a valley.

"Courier, you're expected."

Dart stifled a yelp and looked up, meeting the impassive optics of SubCommander Prowl. The tall black and white mech was standing in the middle of the stairwell, arms crossed over his bulbous chestplate. He stepped to the side and made a slight sweeping gesture with his left arm, indicating that she should precede him.

"Ah, yes," she gulped, edging past him. Her black feet barely made a sound on the carpeted stairs; the stairwell opened up into a broad room, more theatre than office. It was illuminated by the light streaming in from the huge panel of Plasglass. A large blue-steel desk – a direct contrast to the uniform orange theme of the City – perched squarely in the middle with a high-backed chair. A comm unit was built into the right side of the desk; a stack of datapads took up the other. Various knick-knacks were lined up along the front edge. Two potted plants of some fern variety flanked this simple seat of power.

Dart eased up the carpeted floor, passing several low couches. To the right, a massive unit hung on the wall, its screen currently displaying the local news. To the left were three screens, each one showcasing where various Autobots were stationed.

It was when Prowl put his hand to the middle of her back, gently easing her forward, did Dart realize that she'd stopped moving. She staggered forward the last few steps and stood nervously in front of the desk. Prowl took up a chair to the left, facing the stairwell and fixed her with that level stare. "You may sit, Courier," he said, nodding towards one of the two black, wrought iron chairs positioned in front of the desk.

"Thank you," she mumbled, keeping her optics low. The soft blue cushion was fairly alien under her aft. The femme kept her hands on her lap, ankles together, waiting for Optimus Prime to arrive.

There was the sound of chatter and heavy feet on the steps. Two femme voices wafted into the office; Dart's spoiler creaked and she turned sideways in her seat. The one on the left was tall and lithe, plated in brown and fiery colors; the other was shorter, almost stocky in build, and armored in grey, black and white. They were laughing as they entered, animated in their speech. _Solarflare_, Dart identified; her spoiler chimed slightly against her shoulder plates. _And … I don't know who she is_. Instinctively, she shrank into the chair, swinging around to stare outside.

"Ladies," Prowl greeted genially. "Your seats, please. Optimus and Ultra Magnus will be here momentarily."

The femmes' chatter stopped as if their vocalizers had been cut. Out of the corner of her optic, Dart saw the two winged femmes take up positions on the nearest couch. "Magnus? What for?" Solarflare asked.

Prowl's face remained impassive, though his fingers tapped against the crooks of his arms. "I believe he has some questions for everyone."

The brown and flame-colored femme nodded thoughtfully. "I see."

Dart continued to stare out the window. The level of familiarity in the room was making her uncomfortable. "So, Solarflare," Prowl said, leaning back in his chair, "how are the upgrades?"

The voice that answered was bubbly, not the cool, assertive voice Dart had last heard defending her in the training room. She turned her head, slowly, and glanced at the two femmes. "They work like a dream, Prowl. Ratchet made sure that I was able to fully hook-up to all five satellites before he let me leave. I'll be able to access information on the other wavelengths soon; Blaster said he'd show me how to hack frequencies."

Prowl nodded and opened his mouth to reply when he smartly shut it and got to his feet. "Prime."

Some inner survival instinct pulled Dart upright. She turned and saw that the two femmes were also standing. Rising out of the stairwell was the imposing red-blue-and-white bulk of the leader of the Autobots: Optimus Prime. Not two steps behind was the equally-formidable blue and red mech, Ultra Magnus, second in command to Prime.

Though his grey battlemask betrayed no emotion, Optimus Prime carried himself easily and familiarly across the length of his office. He nodded to Dart, to the two femmes, then to Prowl. "Sit, old friends. This is a casual meeting." And so Optimus Prime sat, reaching forward and toying with the position of a trinket on his desk before settling against the backboard of his chair. Ultra Magnus remained standing, taking up a corner of the wall, arms crossed, white facial planes set more stiffly than Prowl.

Optimus' blue optics swept to Dart, lingering there. The black and silver femme's Energon pump jumped, revving. Before she could utter a word, he nodded and turned his head towards the couch. "I just read Ratchet's report, Solarflare. I'm glad that you took to them so well."

"No more than I, Optimus!"

The large mech nodded. "The purpose of this meeting is to discuss … 'travel plans', shall we say. Flamestrike has requested a training run for herself and Solarflare. She's also requested the assistance of you, Dart."

"ME!" The words flew from Dart's lip components before her cortex could formulate a proper reply. Her head snapped up and she stared at the supreme commander, jaw slack.

"Yes," the brown and flame-colored femme named Flamestrike replied. Dart stared at her, noting the same composed intensity infused in her face as there was in Prowl's.

"Why? Why _me_?" There was nothing special about her, Dart reasoned. Still on probation, still a defector. What could these two obviously powerful femmes need with _her_?

Flamestrike smiled and slid a glance towards Solarflare. The grey femme returned the expression, her wings fluttering behind her in a peaceful, chiming sound. "That is the purpose of training runs," Flamestrike explained. "To test your limits, any new powers, or old powers left to stagnate. And _you_ have been left to stagnate."

"You've been on probation long enough," Solarflare continued, taking up the thread. "I think there's no need to doubt your intentions any longer." She looked at Optimus, then over at Ultra Magnus. "Optimus, we let SilverSide out on missions sooner. I think it's time to loose Dart's chain and let her run. And I've seen her _run_." She turned a rueful smile on Dart, whose spoiler itched in memory. Yes, she remembered _that_ conflict. How Solarflare had left her with many puncture wounds.

Optimus nodded, but it was Ultra Magnus who spoke. "And herein lies my objection," the commander said, his voice deep and rolling. "If we were to release the courier from her probation and leave her in possession of classified, sensitive material, what would prevent her from taking those long legs of hers back to the Predacons or Terrorcons?" Magnus fixed dinner-plate-sized blue optics on Dart. "I mean no disrespect, Courier, but you must see my hesitation."

Dart bit her lip and stared at a particularly interesting grouping of threads at her feet. If she squinted, she could see a camel. Or was that a moose?

"Dart?"

Optimus was looking at her, hands folded on his desk. "Sir?"

"This is a matter of serious consequence, Dart. It is true that we view defectors with certain skepticism, and it is also true that you could be waiting for us to drop our guard. However, I do not believe that you intend to return to Megatron. You have vouches from three high-ranking officers, as well as several soldiers and most of the staff. So, I need to hear from you, Dart. If you are to go on this training run with Solarflare and Flamestrike, you go under certain conditions – one being that if you do run, they are under orders to terminate you."

The soft pinging of metal on metal met this statement. Dart's highly-tuned aural tract registered the sound coming from the avian Solarflare. _If I'm ever to get outside, I need to go. If I refuse, they'll never allow me anywhere again. I don't want to go – _especially_ with them. But … but if I don't … no words could convince them otherwise._ "I … understand, sir."

"Good. After the completion of this mission, I will consider formally accepting you into our ranks."

_Autobot!_ Dart's Energon pump swelled – with elation or fear, she couldn't be too sure. "Th-thank you, sir," she stammered, hopefully with the right amount of humility.

"Now, if there are no other questions …?" Optimus swung his head in a slow arc, from the femmes on the couch, to Prowl and then to Ultra Magnus. The blue and red commander looked as if he wanted to say something, but kept it to himself. From the set of his facial planes, shoulder plates and the way he propped himself up against the wall, Dart reasoned he was completely against her formal induction. Rumor had it that the City Commander was not one to be trifled with. _Just great_, she muttered.

"None, Optimus," came the responding murmur.

"Then I'll leave you to plan your trip."

Dart knew a dismissal when she heard one. This time, she rose on cue with the others and slowly began to file out of the office.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Flamestrike and Solarflare descended together, with silver and black Dart trailing behind, looking a little lost. Plans were ranging inside Flamestrike's cortex, a complex mapping of possibilities. Their travel plans were going to have to make not only Solarflare work hard, but test Dart's limits – and possibly get her to open up. Decepticon interference would also have to be figured in, so she would have to check the latest intelligence reports from Mirage's spy network. Well, there was no time like the present.

"You've been cleared from all duty, right?" she asked Solarflare.

"Aye. What do you have in mind?"

Flamestrike paused, turning at the waist joint. "Dart?" she called out. "We'd like you to join us, please."

The long-legged courier stopped in her tracks, head jerking upwards, optics wide. She appeared startled – as if she didn't believe she was worthy of being directly addressed. "O-kay." _Or asked, for that matter_, Flamestrike thought, running a reflective hand under her chin.

It was a short walk down the hall towards Prowl's office. Though they shared the space, Flamestrike's name wasn't on the door. Technically, she was his second, though her merits warranted her own office. Neither of them wanted it any other way, however. The entrance code was second nature, its changing pattern burned into her cortex and protected by several firewalls; she could tap the access numbers without looking, and did so. "Ideally, we should be able to leave at dawn," the gryphonic femme said as the panel beeped green and the pneumatic doors hissed open. She walked in and Solarflare followed, Dart trailing behind, head turning and optics roving over the room.

Little had changed in the three years since Flamestrike had arrived. Where there had been one desk facing away from the bay window, now two sat facing each other. Flamestrike's side had more in way of decoration: two gryphon statues flanked either side of the wide ivory desk and a cyberscape of Iacon hung overhead. Prowl's side contained the essentials: datapads, styluses, and his ubiquitous demerit board. While he was no longer in charge of discipline for the City as a whole, all those under his command, Flamestrike included, had their names and crimes listed. (Of course, there was a clean space under her own name, but it was due to her own meticulous nature, not the nature of their relationship.) The center of the room was dominated by the strategy board – a large square that the two used to plan missions and the odd assignment Flamestrike was given. At this moment, it was set for chess.

Flamestrike gathered up the onyx and ivory pieces and carefully packed them away in their padded box. She stowed them, and the board, in a compartment in the table and sat at the head. Solarflare was already perched on a stool beside her, but Dart idled in the entrance. The femme's seeming unwillingness to act on her own initiative crossed wires with Flamestrike; she beamed Solarflare a tight line. _"She _can_ think for herself, right?"_

The grey comm officer flicked the two feather-shaped tines on her helm. _"Yes."_

Flamestrike decided against inviting Dart over, hoping that the courier would take it upon herself to sit. With the grey digits of her right hand, Flamestrike powered the grid. The green box slowly faded as the hologram program formed. "Prowl and I bandied about several locations for your test-run. All three areas are close enough to the City to warrant aid if necessary. Here's the first …" Flamestrike toggled the grid, and as she did so, her optics caught movement. Dart was settling herself on the last stool, forearms flat on the tabletop, staring intently into the bowl of the grid.

"I'll need something that presents a frequency challenge, so something with high moisture content, perhaps a chasm or two to confuse the signals," Solarflare mused, taloned digit-tips tapping against the side of her face as she peered within.

Flamestrike checked her data. "Well, Fall Creek Falls has a rather prominent waterfall."

Solarflare grinned. "I could use a good wash after that rationing last week."

At any other time, Flamestrike would have laughed at her wingmate's attempt at humor; tonight, she was in her Mode. "I'm going to request several scramblers." She pulled a datapad from subspace and ran her finger down a rather long checklist. "Well, I think that's it for you, Flare. Now, we'll need an energy rifle, a light pistol and several targets. Can Mirage secure us some ammo?"

"Shell, laser, or plasma rounds?"

"Shell. I don't want anything in the immediate area combusting from a stray shot. Ah, yes, a net, too."

"I'll request twenty clips. Or do you think thirty will do?"

"No, twenty should hold us. I've logged us for three days. It won't take us that long to get up there, but I want to take it easy." Flamestrike scrolled down, then flipped to a new screen. "While you're getting the ammo, see if you can wrangle me an extra charger – and an extra clip of pellets for you."

Solarflare's charcoal lip components stretched wide. "And two pack mules while I'm at it – to carry all the gear."

Flamestrike glanced at her list. _Well, I suppose it _is_ rather excessive_, she thought. "All right. _One_ pistol, five boxes of shell ammo and three targets. Dart, do you have anything to add?"

The black and silver femme was staring into the grid, fingers dangling over the rim. She looked up, brow ridge rising. "Uhm … fo—fuel?"

"Yes," Flamestrike agreed, checking her list. "Could you see the quartermaster after we're through and secure us three vials of high grade, three cans of Energon and a box of Energon chips? The flavored ones Wheeljack was experimenting with."

It was amazing, but Dart actually wilted a little. "I'm not allowed down there."

_Easily solved._ "Flare, grab me one of Prowl's badges; they're in the upper left-hand drawer."

"And filed under – what?" came the responding quip as the grey avian crossed the room to hunker down by Prowl's spacious desk.

Flamestrike couldn't help but quirk a smile. "They're just in there. No special system."

"What, no more 'security room badges' or 'storage badges'?"

_Well, that used to be true_, Flamestrike thought amusedly. "No." She'd since managed to convince the subcommander that it was easier to keep general permission badges instead of specific ones. Cut down on the clutter, was her reasoning. And production costs.

"Here you go, Dart." Flare flipped a thin plascard towards the courier, who caught it mid-air and between two fingers.

_Nice reflexes_, Flamestrike observed. "Just hand this to the quartermaster and he'll scan it," she explained. "You'll be free to get what we need. Store them in your bunk and bring them with you when we leave tomorrow."

Dart took the card and tipped it end over end. "What time are we leaving?"

"Be fully charged and ready to go at 0500. We'll meet outside the main gates. I'll finish our itinerary tonight." Flamestrike pulled up another hologram, superimposing it over the first one. Maybe Fall Creek Falls was too touristy …

--

Solarflare rose and gently laid a taloned hand on Dart's shoulder. The courier trembled at the contact, but she didn't jump. "She's in deep now; it's best that we get our gear. C'mon, I'll walk you out."

Dart looked at the card once more before flipping the top of her right hip carrier and dropping it in. She was quiet as they left Flamestrike to her machinations, the door closing behind them automatically. Flare struggled for something to say – normally she was quite able to come up with an ice-breaking topic, but it was difficult to be chatty with Dart. Her silence, coupled with their brief, tumultuous past, made things all the harder. _You made a promise to yourself_, her conscious reminded her as they waited for the elevator. _To put all that aside and to see her as an equal, not an enemy._

The stocky grey femme stood with her wings half-fanned, arms crossed over her flat chestplate, pyramidal feet slightly splayed; Dart, on the other hand, stood on the balls of her feet, hands linked behind her back. Her whole frame bespoke of tension – a coiled spring that was ready to launch at any moment. Flare glanced at the elevator's readout, then flicked gold optics to her new partner. "So … what do you hope to take out of this mission?"

Silence ticked by as the elevator rose to their level. Flare was ready to concede defeat when a puff of a sigh was vented by the other femme. "I … I don't know why I'm even going."

The elevator arrived and Flare stepped inside, holding the door open for Dart. Cautiously, the courier entered. Solarflare bobbed on the tips of her toes a moment, wings close to her spine. "In all honesty, it was Flamestrike who asked for you to come. I don't know what to think about you, Dart; we had a brief battle and we were out for each other's laser cores. But I'm willing to put that aside if you are. To me, you're neither Autobot nor Decepticon, but Neutral." _And as lame as it sounds, maybe … maybe I want to be your friend._ Carefully, she judged the courier's reaction. Dart swung her head around, spoiler rattling against her shoulder plates as Flare's own wings would her spine.

"But you'll shoot me."

Flare couldn't hide her surprise; her tines hit her helm with a double _ping_. Might as well stick with the truth. "If you give me a reason to then, yes, I will carry out my orders. But I don't think you will." Something surged within Solarflare's Energon chamber, stretching to her spark. She reached out and grabbed the other femme by her shoulder plate, talons making little divots in the soft armor. "_Don't give me a reason to._"

Blue and gold optics met. Dart's white-silver facial planes flickered through so many emotions, Flare lost count. Finally, she winced and sidestepped the contact. Flare politely stuck her hands behind her back. The elevator chimed the grey femme's floor and she exited, tipping her head to Dart before the doors closed. The armory was separate from the main City, connected to this floor by a short bridge. There was an additional entrance on the ground, but that access was usually used for munitions coming in, rather than going out – unless you happened to be a flyer. Two guards were on duty: one at the entrance to the bridge and one on the other side. Flare flipped her security badge to the femme standing guard and passed through once the energy bars were lowered. She repeated the process with the mech seated at the security stand and showed him her list.

"Easily done, ma'am. We moved some things around since you were last here with the head CI agent. Aisles four, twelve and twenty-two."

"Thank you." Flare's tines bobbed and she moved away, a very distinct and familiar sensation tingling at the back of her cortex. She headed for the furthest aisle and the sensation followed her; once securely hidden from view, she reached out and tweaked the space a foot above her head. "Still trying to trip up Red Alert, huh?"

"And still succeeding," a cool, cultured baritone replied, issuing from the very air around her. "Why is Flamestrike trying to bulk up the defector?"

Flare vented a small sigh, rife with mixed emotions. She searched the shelves for the proper calibre of ammunition for a moment before replying. "Prowl's rubbed off on her a little too much," she said, trying to inject some humor with a sideways smile to her invisible companion. "She seems to want Dart to do some target practice."

"I see," Mirage murmured, fading into the visible spectrum and taking the box of ammo from her hand. "No, not these." He put them back on the shelf and moved around his bondmate, scanning the boxes. "What does she want her to learn? Rifle, pistol, giant fusion cannon?"

"I managed to get her down to a light pistol – shell rounds only. We'll be headed upstate, somewhere. Lots of trees."

"Just target practice for her? No hand-to-hand combat?"

Flare paused. "Maybe. I hadn't thought of that."

Mirage's sky blue lip components pursed thoughtfully. "Just don't let her bite you." He moved on, grabbing several boxes and tucking them into the crook of his arm. Solarflare scurried after him, refraining from commenting on his last notation. Like her, Mirage had an interesting encounter with Dart – only he had received a smart gash to his hand, not a rough'n'tumble beating. Still, he was affronted enough to unconsciously rub his hand whenever he spotted the courier femme. "We'll grab a semi-automatic Glaze44H Special for the girl. It's a lower calibre than yours, so you shouldn't have any problems showing her how to use it."

Mirage was clearly unhappy with her heading off with a Decepticon defector – even if it was _Dart_ and she was largely unarmed. Not to mention the fact that Flare was quite capable of ripping off the cockpits of Seekers with her bare hands; Flamestrike was no slouch, either. Quietly, Flare interposed herself between her bondmate and the next shelf; with his optics wide, she took everything out of his arms and set them on a clean shelf behind her. She looped her taloned fingers into his long, slim black ones and squeezed. "Who is your wild avian girl?" she asked coyly, softly.

The classic facial planes she loved so well broke their stoic mien. Mirage smiled, albeit a little sadly. "I'm sorry, Lina," he whispered. "I'm doing you – and Flamestrike – a disservice."

"And maybe Dart as well," she added, watching his reaction. His optic sensors flickered right-left-right, then down to her.

"That's left to be seen. SilverSide proved himself; she's yet to."

"Then let her try. I'm giving her the chance, so is Prowl and Optimus."

Mirage smiled and touched the top of her head with his chin. "Ever the mother hen, Lina."

Solarflare pressed her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the quiet vibrations of his Energon pump through the thick armor. "It's hard … but I'm trying."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_It's hard to imagine that she can safely shake hands_, Dart mumbled as the elevator doors closed behind Solarflare. There was a pattern of five small divots in the rounded edge of her shoulder plate, barely noticeable except to the discerning optic – and Dart had a pair of the best ones around. There were other seams and such divots patterning her metallic body, some more visible than others – the product of shoddy repair jobs.

She forgot the quartermaster's level and had to consult the chart plastered on the back wall of the elevator. Hitting the button for the ground floor, Dart swayed slightly as the lift lurched and began to descend. She pondered Solarflare's words, recalled the strained timbre of the other femme's vocalizer as she spoke of shooting her if necessary. _"Don't give me a reason to," she said. She's so strange, I don't know if I could even begin to tell what would set her off … but she seems so … nice._ Any further rumination was cut off as the elevator chimed her floor and the doors drew back into their recesses. Dart found herself on the rec room level and blinked in confusion. She didn't dare ask one of the milling Autobots, a few of whom paused in their meanderings to stare at her.

"Excuse me."

The tall, dark-haired woman wearing the work uniform of the kitchen staff paused mid-step and looked up at the lanky femme. Dart continued, "Could you direct me to the quartermaster?"

The woman's eyes flickered briefly, and then she nodded. "Head on through there," she said, pointing to the hall beyond the rec room. "You'll need a card to get in, though."

"Thank you," Dart replied, patting her hip carrier. She and the woman parted ways and Dart walked up to the barred doorway. There was a keypad and slot for what Dart supposed was her plascard. She pulled the key out and swiped it, rocking back on her heels and waiting for a blaring alarm. The keypad blinked green and three locks tumbled within the door's structure. Dart waited a beat, and when the door didn't swing of its own accord, grabbed the handle and quickly pulled downwards. It swung open easily enough and she slipped through, tucking the plascard back into her carrier for safekeeping.

A short hall gave way to the massive storage room that housed all human and Cybertronian food/fuel supplies as well as other miscellaneous necessities. Dart stepped up to the wide white railing that bordered the warehouse and looked down. Autobots and humans milled around below, some driving forklifts – others _were_ the forklifts.

"State your business, soldier," a gruff mech vocalizer ordered. Dart whirled, legs splayed out in a reactive stance. The bulky green and grey mech whom she faced took an involuntary step backwards, but quickly recovered. "Business," he repeated, folding his arms and tucking a clipboard between them.

"Dart, here to pick up supplies for … Flamestrike," she stumbled.

The mech vented air and looked at his databoard. "I have no orders for the infiltrationist."

"Uhm," Dart fumbled, scrabbling around in her carrier for the plascard. "Here." She thrust it out at him, right under his olfactory sensor.

The mech whom she took to be the quartermaster grabbed the card and fed it into a slot in his board. Dart hung back, optics flickering. "Well," the mech grunted. "It's one of Subcommander Prowl's passes all right. Okay, soldier, what does Infiltrationist Flamestrike need?" He handed the plascard back to her, large blue optics calculating; Dart nodded, trying to remember the list.

"Uhm, flasks of Energon, some high grade and Energon … chips?"

A light blinked on the wall next to the green and grey mech. "Quartermaster here."

"_Quartermaster Highrise, this is Infiltration Specialist Flamestrike,"_ the familiar vocalizer drifted from the comm unit; _"I was just checking to see if my courier, Dart, arrived."_

"Right here, ma'am. I'll set her up with all that you need."

"_Good; thank you."_

Highrise tucked his clipboard into subspace and hooked a finger in Dart's direction. "All right, Courier. Let's get your things. This way; step lively and watch out for the lifts. We've got a few new humans on training duty and one of them's not too keen on brakes yet. I had to scrap two drones this afternoon and I'm not about to send anyone to Med Bay."

oOoOoOoOo

Early-morning traffic flowed like gentle birds into the City. Dart stood on the top of the stairs, overlooking the woods that housed the training grounds; the box of supplies lay at her feet. Dawn was rosy, not quite deep pink, but threaded with hints of purple and night blue. Midsummer scents filled the air, wafting towards the City and swirling around it, caught up in the spray of the generators. Dart inhaled, drawing every nuance of scent into her olfactory system. The power of nature recharged her in a way that no berth or power cord ever could. It brought a spark to her optics, a lift to her Energon pump and vigor to her laser core.

Sensitive audio receptors caught the footfalls of two mechanical beings behind her. Dart turned and saw Solarflare and Flamestrike walking side-by-side across the flat, open ground between turrets. Each femme had a distinct walk: Flamestrike strolled with an upright carriage, her tail held with rigid precision behind her and wings folded neatly at her spine; Solarflare walked at a slight forward angle, light on her feet despite their size, the pinions of her wings fanned and extended. There was confidence in every line of their bodies, a difference Dart could feel in her synthetic veins. At once, she felt awkward and gawky, reliving those high school years all over again. The "in-crowd" was approaching and she was the outsider. Worse, she was a defector – akin to a nerd asking to join the jocks' table at lunch.

Dart watched them and saw that both femmes were carrying several items looped around their bodies. Solarflare had a belt strapped around her waist with a conventional human leather holster; five pockets dangling from the belt were threatening to burst. Her gryphonic counterpart had something large and round poking out over the top of her flame-colored head; a complex loop of rope was bundled and attached to her hip. The courier's optics flicked to the box of supplies she'd placed on the floor beside her; she bent and picked up the blue-steel package, holding it close to her chestplate.

The femmes were all smiles, that a slightly cheery "good morning" inadvertently slipped from her lip components. Shock made a quick appearance on Solarflare's face, then slipped quickly into pleasantness.

"Good morning to you, too, Dart. Ready to go?"

"I suppose so," she admitted.

Flamestrike nodded and pulled two thin disks out of a slot in her right forearm. "Ladies, these are our coordinates. I've estimated our travel time at an hour and ten minutes, with good headwind."

_Headwind?_ "You mean … flying?" Dart interrupted over Solarflare's query of location. "_Flying_?"

The brown and flame-colored gryphonic femme tilted her head, tail swinging in an idle arc. "Well, yes. It's the quickest way of travel, since all three of us are flight-capable." Dart took a half-step back as Flamestrike's optical sensors tightened. "Are you implying that you can't fly? What little I know of your schematics indicates you can."

_Think quickly, Dart_, the courier told herself. "I, uh … they were damaged when I came in and I never got around to getting them repaired."

Something in Flamestrike's gaze told Dart that the infiltration specialist wasn't fooled. "Well, that puts a small kink in my plans. Tell me you can properly transform."

Mutely, Dart nodded. Flamestrike crossed her arms over her gryphon-head chestplate and looked at Solarflare. The grey avian femme shook her head and shrugged. "We'll leave by the bridge, then," Flamestrike said. "Head on down and we'll meet you there."

Somewhat relieved, Dart nodded and began to walk towards the opposite end of the City. Flamestrike's voice called her back around. "Don't forget to insert the coordinates into your system," the gryphonic femme instructed.

"All right!" Dart called back. She returned to walking and held up the thin disc, juggling her cargo with the other arm. _Now, only if I knew where she wanted me to put it …_

--

Flamestrike was irritated; while her facial planes remained rather smooth, the brown and flame-colored femme couldn't hold her tail. The silver appendage with its tri-bladed, fiery tip jerked spasmodically, lashing her calves and ankle joints. "What's that human saying about assuming things?"

Flare paused in fixing the belt around her waist. "Assuming? Oh, making an ass out of you and me."

"Right. I should've known better, Flare. How could she have survived in the Decepticon ranks so long with programming like that? Not repairing her boosters my boron compressor."

"Maybe we can find out," Flare replied, reaching out with a black steel pinion and nudging her wingmate. "That was why you wanted her along in the first place."

Flamestrike nodded, tight-lipped. "Best get on with it. The wind's picking up."

Privately, Flare was relieved to be on the road and in the air. She finished her adjustments and, satisfied that they wouldn't tangle in the complex parts that would make up her avian altmode, threw out her wings, feeling the wind play against the sensitive neuros embedded into the tips. She half-crouched, beating the large pinions and stretching servos that hadn't seen use in a few weeks' time. Electric thrill shot through her system, heading straight through to her cortex, lighting up every pleasure sensor she possessed. Flying was the greatest high in her mechanical life – even interfacing (_Sorry, Raj_, she apologized.) came second. Here, in the wind, she was free from everything: duty and rational thought.

With one more good, hard beat, Flare threw up her arms and transformed. Her lower torso spun and shrank, protective grey plating easing out of small compartments in her back to cover those sensitive areas. At the same time, her arms retracted into her chest, shoulder struts snapping down and forward. At last, her head sank into the cavity, nestled next to her Energon pump and spark chamber, to be replaced by the black-beaked avian head.

The eagle that was Solarflare shook out her tail feathers and beat her wings once more. To her right, Flamestrike was finishing her own transformation: a brown-armored amalgam of feline and avian parts. Bright green optics winked out of the avian face at the eagle. "Ready?"

"Always," Solarflare called back. With an ungainly hop-skip that was inherent in land-bound – and mechanical – birds of prey, Flare ran off of the nearest edge of the City, throwing herself into the void. Her anti-grav boosters kicked in at the moment her pinions were thrown open and they propelled the grey eagle skyward in a joyful, looping spiral. A keen golden optic noted Flamestrike doing the same thing, though her leap was more of grace than gangly, with her four legs to Solarflare's two.

Sweet, warm wind blew against Flare's metallic nares, sweeping through her system, cooling her hard-working servos and invigorating her spark at the same time. She climbed higher, circling the comm tower where she spent most of her online hours plugged into that Primus-forsaken unit.

"_This way, wingsis."_ The voice crackled out of her internal comm system and sounded politely amused.

_Eh? Oh._ Flare gave herself a rough, internal shake and spun on her inner pinion towards the spot where Flamestrike was hovering. Her friend's large beak was pulled into a smile as she approached. With a flick of a pinion and a turn of her talons, Flamestrike flew onwards. Flare allowed herself a private, rueful grin and followed, flying directly across from her friend, so that their wingtips were no more than twenty feet apart.

The air grew warmer as the hour progressed, the rising sun cresting the horizon at last, spilling clear golden light across the valley. Rays beat down over Flare's grey metal back, infusing her system. She kept an optic on the road below and finally spotted an inconspicuous late-model black Pontiac TransAm; the only way she knew that car to be Dart was by the white lightning bolt splayed across the hood. _Well, she has anonymity going for her, if nothing else,_ Flare mused. That relative invisibility stretched to include no faction symbol, though anyone paying close attention would be able to tell that no one was actually _driving_ the Pontiac. Still, Flare had to hand it to Dart for choosing such a relevant altmode.

The unlikely trio passed out of City limits and hit the open Tennessee highway, the avians at the front, the Pontiac at the back, moving along like a reversed arrowhead. While she trusted Flamestrike to lead the way, Flare nonetheless kept tabs on the slim disc the other femme had given her.

_"Running well, Dart?"_ she called down.

After a moment's hesitation, there was the femme's reply: _"You bet."_

_Hmm_. Maybe Dart was like Solarflare, finding freedom and joy in the openness of the world. Perhaps they'd been doing her a disservice in keeping her City-bound. _Small wonder she was nervous, edgy and shy!_ Flare concluded. Well, this certainly turned things around.

_Th-thump! Th-thu-mp!_

Musical vibrations echoed in Flare's inner audio receptors. Confused, the avian femme glanced around her and down, looking for the source of interference. There was nothing save for the open grey highway, Flamestrike to her right and Dart trailing obediently behind them.

_Th-ump! Ba-dumth!_

_Of course!_ Flare smiled and tuned her newly-installed dials; lyrics began to pound in her cortex along with the musical strain. Dart was playing her radio! And it was good, too. She glanced to her left, but Flamestrike was frequency-deaf and unresponsive to what was going on in Flare's cortex. _At least something good has come out of this_, Flare chuckled. _Travel music. I wonder if I can hack into Sirius?_ Suddenly, a hour or two of pure, textbook flight was looking up.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

All along the highway, travelers pulled their cars, trucks and big rigs to the side of the road. Eyes wide, mouths open, they stared skywards at the low-flying creatures – one grey and avian, the other a brown cat/bird with flame-colored wings – as they rocketed across miles of road with nary a concern. The low roar of their passage echoed along the stretch of pavement, falling down upon the thousands of morning commuters. Wisps of vapor streamed from their wingtips like evanescent ribbons before disappearing into the warming air. Keen eyes could capture what they looked like before they disappeared over the horizon. In this confusion and awe, no one noticed the late-model black TransAm as it deftly slid in and out of traffic, speeding north.

OoOoOoOoO

Bright orange and black letters proclaimed the park to be off-limits, strengthened by the heavy chain link fence that was strung across the gates. The two winged femmes flew right over the barriers, leaving Dart to idle while she pondered how to get in. Their actions did not offend her; she was too used to being left to fend for herself and find her own solutions. She'd just transformed and was sizing up the height of the barriers and calculating how much gravel she was going to have to run in order to leap it when Solarflare appeared. The grey femme was wearing a rueful smile as she set talons to the gate and pried it open.

"Sorry about that," she said, closing the gates behind Dart and dusting off her hands.

Dart was too busy taking in the scenery to formulate anything more than a distracted, "It's okay."

Solarflare's upraised tines clicked against her helm, and a slow ghost of a smile graced her sharp planes. "This way."

Idly, Dart followed her, craning her neck back to stare at the fullness of the trees. It was so good to be out and about. While the City was surrounded by woods and mountains, they were merely there for her to gaze at, longingly, and hope for the day when her probation came to an end. And now, here she was, in Nature. Dart inhaled, drawing all the scents into her system: earthy loam, kicked up by Solarflare's large feet; the faint odor of ozone wafting from the femme's wings; cool, sweet pine; the deep taste of wet bark on the wind … A revitalizing rush flowed through her stagnant system, shooting to her cortex. Pure bliss.

"Where are we, exactly?" she asked.

"Colonial Falls National Park," Flare replied. "Two hours outside of Chattanooga. We were going to Fall Creek Falls, but Flame saw this place was closed for renovations and conservation and decided to use it instead."

The irony of Solarflare's matter-of-fact commentary was not lost on Dart – but it probably was on her. "What are we going to do?" The woods were closing in on them, one fact that was _not_ lost on Solarflare. The femme, with her bulky backpack of steel feathers, had to twist, turn and manhandle herself to get around the worst of the denizens. Dart allowed herself a small (mental) smirk of satisfaction as her own whipcord body merely passed through all but the tightest of spaces.

"Uhg," Flare suddenly grunted. Dart paused and looked, the sight overwhelmingly funny – the grey femme stuck sideways, wings pinned, between two rather large and ornery oaks. Flare, however, wasn't too amused. She started pushing with both hands and wrenching her body this way and that, trying to shake herself loose. All that she was accomplishing was sending large shivers down the bodies of the oaks, and creating giant cracks.

Dart's optics widened. "Oh, no!" And she dashed forward, gripping the other femme's nearest shoulder strut with both hands. "Not that way!" To her credit, Solarflare immediately relaxed, letting every limb and wing go limp. She nodded.

"Show me."

The courier bit her lower lip component. Well, she had made the offer, albeit indirectly. Releasing Solarflare's arm, she stepped back and surveyed the problem. The comm officer was definitely stuck, neatly pinned at her chestplate and tied up at the wings. If she could loosen the wings a bit, she should be able to shove Solarflare out the other end. _She was lucky to have been built with a flat chestplate_, Dart observed as she noted several points where the other femme's wings were caught up. _Otherwise, we would have to tear these trees down._ Well, no time like the present. Dart reached up and grabbed the leading edge of Solarflare's right wing and gave an experimental tug. She wasn't prepared for the hiss that escaped Flare's clenched jaw. The courier jumped back as if she'd been struck, her body tensed for flight.

"Sorry," Flare said, chagrined, flexing the errant wing. "They're … sensitive."

Air cycled in Dart's ventilators, cooling her heated system. Slowly, she nodded and cautiously approached for another try, shoulder joints hunched, spoiler low. "It'll hurt," she advised, reaching up for the rotor point that connected black steel pinions to the main body of the wing. If the avian femme moved, she would be throwing the wing forward, not back, so Dart positioned herself slightly to the hind, feet situated to get her out of the way of recoil. First, she cleared the leading edge of any branches small enough to be snapped. She saw Flare watching her out of the corner of her optic, headtines flat against her helm. Well, this wasn't the hardest part …

SNAP!

"_Holymotherfuckin'slaggin'jesuschrist_!"

Dart jumped back. Just as she'd calculated, Solarflare's wing – as well as the rest of her body – pitched forward. As the avian femme recoiled, Dart danced to the left. The great trees groaned, flakes of bark littering the forest floor.

"Wha—?"

Dart glanced around the trees to see Flamestrike galloping to a halt in gryphon-mode. The infiltrationist's green optics drew wide, then sloped into amusement. "I wondered where you wandered to," Flamestrike continued mildly, rising on her hind legs and setting her paraphernalia to the side. "All right, Dart, let's get her free."

Much to Dart's surprise, the ranking femme did not step in and assume control. Rather, she nodded to Dart, her body language asking for instructions. Almost numbly, Dart sketched out her plan.

"Sounds good to me," Flamestrike told her, looking to where Solarflare eyed them both rather testily. "I'd like to set up camp and have Flare radio the City as soon as possible." She walked to Flare's right and planted her booted foot on Solarflare's hip. "No hard feelings, wingsis?"

All that the other femme would allow was a muted sigh. Dart repositioned herself, wrapping her fingers around the leading edge of Solarflare's wing. "On the count of three …" she intoned. "One … two … _three_!" With all that she had, Dart yanked on Solarflare's wing at the same time Flamestrike leveled a hard kick at the femme's hip. There was a horrible screech layered upon the cracking of bark and howl of metal on wood. Dart tumbled backwards, spinning and landing face down in the mulch that was the forest floor. Swift reflexes acted before her cortex could formulate what had happened, rolling her body out of the way as Solarflare came crashing down in a tangled heap of limbs and wings.

Dart shimmied backwards, staring at the grey femme. Flare lay in the dirt a moment before levering herself on her forearms. She looked first at Dart, then rotated to look over her shoulder at Flamestrike. "If either of you speak of this to Sunstreaker, I will make sure that all your transmissions connect to a never-ending loop of the 'Macarena'."

Rising slowly, Dart brushed flecks of dirt and needles from her armor. Well, there was no way _she'd_ be telling the giant golden warrior anything! Flamestrike laughed, leaning against one of the poor trees. Slowly, Flare flipped herself onto her back and favored Dart another glance. "Thanks," she said, a grin playing on her charcoal lip components.

Dart found herself smiling back. "You're welcome." She extended a hand to the fallen femme, no longer concerned about the talons that protruded from each digit's tip. Flare's grasp was strong and Dart dug her heels into the ground, levering her to her feet.

"All right, ladies," Flamestrike chuckled. "Let's get going, shall we?"

--

Camp was blissfully clear of trees, something Solarflare never thought she'd want. However, after the tug-of-war that was played between her body and two oaks, she was glad to be free of them. There were scratches along the whole of her chestplate and her wings ached something fierce, but other than her slightly wounded pride, she was hale and whole. She stood on a slight ridge of rocks overlooking a lily-strewn pond; a covered bridge, its red and white paint flaky and weather-worn, spanned the far-end. Flare touched to fingertips to the dial embedded into the right side of her helm; she felt the four small tines, two on each dial, extend. Without conscious thought, her cortex began downloading all the information she needed: the frequencies streaming through the atmosphere and which satellite was the closest to access. With a mental motion Flare normally used when physically connected to a comm unit, she "reached" for the best frequency and rode it all the way to Autobot City.

_"Solarflare to Autobot City."_

The line was "caught" by City computers and filtered directly into Blaster's unit. He was there on the line within microseconds. _"Blaster here. Well, babygirl, seems you and your gang made some good time."_

Flare allowed herself a chuckle; she wasn't going to tell Blaster what happened. He wasn't like Sunstreaker, but she worked with the mech. Teasing would be unavoidable. _"We had good wind the whole way. How do I sound?"_

_"Clear as a bell, girl. Sounds as if you're standin' right next to me. The connections are solid. What'd you do, incorporate the whole manual?"_

The grey femme chuckled. _"Naw, I used what I learned from the master."_

_"The Blast-master, yo,"_ he returned, laughing. _"Well, girlfriend, I'll let you get back to your pow-wow with the other ladies. I'll be passin' your success onto Prime this evening. Don't forget to run through that schedule I gave you."_

Flare smiled. _"Will do. Solarflare out."_ The connection was cut and Flare slid back into herself, noting how little energy was used to make the call. It was so small, there was really no need to log the use, but she did anyway. Someone was bound to ask her – probably Ratchet.

She hopped off the rocky outcropping and meandered back to camp, letting the sweet breezes play along her armor. The sky was a clear, cerulean blue, cut through with fluffy white clouds. It was hard not to be swept away by the beauty; but there was still a clear and present danger in the air, even if there was no actual tremor upon the wind.

The grey femme walked into camp to find Flamestrike setting up the large canvas target and its shield backing towards the far end. Dart was seated, watching the infiltrationist. Flare slipped over the large rocks they'd moved into a slight circle and perched next to the courier. "Mission accomplished," she told Flamestrike.

"Good," the gryphonic femme replied. "If you could get the gear out, we'll start practice now."

Dart's head turned towards Solarflare, confusion etched in her facial planes. Flare reached for the utility belt she'd discarded when they arrived and began unpacking the bulging pockets. "Here," she said, drawing forth the lightweight pistol and setting it in Dart's lap. Next, came the box of ammo Mirage had picked out; she set those in a tiny line before them. She started to rise when she noticed that Dart was staring at the pistol, her whole upper frame shifting backwards.

Flare was dumbstruck by the reaction. The black and silver courier's face was etched with an emotion she could not define completely, but it seemed closest to revulsion.

"Dart?" Flamestrike queried from by the target. "Is there something wrong?"

"I … I don't …"

"Don't what?" Flamestrike repeated slowly, leaning up against the target. Flare glanced at her wingmate, then back at Dart, confused. "Dart, don't tell me you don't like guns, either," the gryphonic femme said, steam venting from the top of her head in a thin stream.

Solarflare stood, hand outstretched. "Flame …"

"No, no, it's … okay," came the sighing reply. "Put 'em away, Flare. We'll improvise."

Flare nodded and bent to retrieve the pistol and ammunition, shoving them back into the pouches before tossing the whole ensemble into the middle of camp, where they landed with a muted thud against the rest of the gear. Out of the corner of her optic, she watched Dart's reaction, but saw nothing. The courier stared into her hands, upraised, resting on her lap. She was so strange, Flare mused, sitting back down and watching Flamestrike ponder over the target. _Won't fly, won't use a gun … even I overcame those fears for our cause_, she murmured. _Flamestrike thought this trip would bring us answers, but I'm finding more questions pop up every time we turn around. Obviously she's a survivor – Primus knows how. Decepticons don't need to like to use firearms – only to use them when they're told to. Perhaps, being a courier, she wasn't needed to land an assault._

Flamestrike's next words cut through Solarflare's detailed ruminations. "Okay, Dart. Now, I know you've got blades. Let's see you use them."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Flamestrike couldn't help herself. Long-accustomed to getting things done – and accomplished _quickly_ – Dart's consistent quirks were grating on her servos. What was supposed to be a simple training mission was turning out to be all sorts of wrong. And she could hear Prowl in the back of her cortex, his baritone vocalizer patiently spelling out all the ways she was off the mark. On-the-fly missions weren't her deal – she had to plan things out beforehand and follow through, almost to the letter. And this mission was definitely straying from her careful plans.

In front of her, Dart lifted both forearms; two subtle _snicks_ later and twin knives extended from her wrists. Flamestrike studied the former Decepticon's armaments: They were thin and edged only on the curve. From what she could gather by the color and thickness, they seemed to be nothing more than plain Earthen steel, tempered by Cybertronian means, but not possessing the hardness of trylithium-infused metals. Still, when put to a softer part of a mech's body, they could do some serious damage, as the traitor Turnout found out when Dart rammed him in the torso some time before.

"Attack the target," the gryphonic femme instructed, stepping to the side. What she was looking for, she couldn't say; her instructions from Prowl, however, were to observe and relay to him Dart's techniques. And making minute observations were part and parcel of her function as an infiltrationist: Where was the best spot to enter? Did any of these panels seem weaker than the rest? These, she filed away and processed, spitting back her decisions a microsecond later.

Dart flicked her a confused glance, then sprang forward, shoving a swatch of earth five feet behind her as she lunged. _Notation: all power in her legs_, Flamestrike observed. The black and silver femme hit the target solidly, the point of her right knife skewering through the center. The canvas ripped easily enough, flagging in the wind generated by the femme's thrust. "Again. Box with it."

Her mien was solid confusion, but Dart yanked her arm back and went at the target again. And again. She struck the poor canvas at the same point, with the same arm, almost 90 of the time, only alternating to her left when she glanced at Flamestrike. In less than ten minutes, the target was a useless piece of scrap, pieces of which fluttered from the rim like so many miniature flags. Slowly, Dart turned to look at Flamestrike, her expression one of "what now?".

Processing quickly, Flamestrike nodded to herself. She was no Wreakspot, her trainer back at the City, nor was she Sunstreaker, but she could do. She hoped. Reaching behind her, Flamestrike detached her tailblade. "All right, let's go for a twenty-minute bout. Time us, Flare."

"Oh … kay," the grey femme assured, standing up and moving to the far edge of their camp.

Hefting the blade in both hands, Flamestrike squared off against Dart. The other femme pivoted, saying nothing with words, but her body language was enough. The spoiler went down and she hunched low, splaying her feet.

_"I hope you know what you're doing,"_ a voice whispered over a tight band.

Flame pursed her lip components as she got into a similar stance. _"She doesn't have to know that."_ She shifted. "Go."

The force of Dart's kick-off overwhelmed the gryphonic femme. She staggered backwards, nearly sent head over tailpipe as both of Dart's knives connected edge-on to the staff of her blade. Gritting her dental plates, Flamestrike braced with her left leg and kicked off with her right, shoving the staff upwards, away from her. Metal screeched against itself as Dart tipped back.

The silver and black femme rebounded, striking again. Flamestrike repeated the move, spinning the staff around and clocking Dart on the hip with the flat of the blade. The courier staggered, her left knee almost touching the ground, but she recovered, hands clenching and flexing. It was then that Flamestrike saw what she was looking for – a cant of determination in the courier's brow ridge, a sloping of the lip components and a rise of the spoiler. Low panting flowed across the small space, deepening in pitch to a flat growl.

They circled each other, scoring hits at a turn. As they spun in a slow, measured dance, Flamestrike saw a decided change in the courier's stance. She seemed more alert, focused. The spoiler was up, her struts pointing to the sky.

"Time," Solarflare called.

Both femmes stepped back, confused. Was it time already? Flamestrike glanced at Dart and caught a cerulean optic; the femme met her questing gaze. Flamestrike nodded. Slowly, a ghost of a smile lit Dart's normally-lax features. Understanding flowed between them, but Flamestrike knew that it would have to be worked at – hard. Replacing her tail, the gryphonic femme walked over to the sketchy circle of boulders and sat down, grabbing a thin can of Energon and, popping the top, sipped. The fuel flowed down her metallic gullet, hitting her tank with a resounding splash. Within moments, her system began to process it, refining it and sending its components wherever they were needed in her body.

Movement caught her optic. Dart sat down at the head of the circle, effectively creating a triangle between them. Setting the can down, Flamestrike looked at Solarflare, then at Dart. "So, Dart, tell us – where do you hail from?"

The courier paused mid-paw through the bag of Energon-chips. Flamestrike might as well have asked her to shoot herself from the stare she gave them. _Not another trip-up_, the infiltrationist vented privately. Carefully, she schooled her facial planes into polite patience.

"I don't know," the courier replied thoughtfully, carefully, staring at a chip before popping it into her mouth. "My memory banks were damaged upon arrival. All that remained was my personality component, which … Starscream used to reformat me."

_Interesting, and somewhat convenient_, Flamestrike mused, taking a larger sip. "What _do_ you remember?"

Dart shrugged. "Wide open spaces, running. The clarity of the sky. Other than that, I don't recall."

Flamestrike felt a discreet "nudge" in her inner audio. _"Let it be, Flame,"_ Solarflare murmured. _"Maybe if we talked about ourselves, she'll open up."_

"Well," the grey comm officer said aloud, "I worked in the merchant district, in Iacon proper. Nothing spectacular or fancy, but I made a modest living mostly doing what I do now – organizing, filing, being a hub for information." She smiled sideways at Dart. "When Sentinel Prime was murdered by Megatron, and the world fell into war, I joined up with a splinter group of Elita-1's. My band managed to hijack a Decepticon vessel outside of Tau-Ceta III – the mining colony? Unfortunately, we were hijacked in return, but most of us managed to grab pods to safety. Mine was hit upon ejection, and the unit's system somehow locked onto a beam issued by Prime on Earth. And here I've been, ever since."

With one more sip, Flamestrike related her own story. "I was a runner for the Iacon Council. A thankless job, mostly, but I enjoyed it. The Elders' Chambers were always filled with excitement, and I met the most interesting people from all over the galaxy. At Megatron's declaration, and the decimation of the Council, I joined up with Elita, eventually serving under her directly. My speed served me well in my chosen field of infiltration." She noted the wide-optics, the canted body. Dart was very interested. "When word reached to us that Optimus Prime had survived and was building a base on Earth, a call went out for volunteers. I did and was accepted." Fond memories flooded her cortex at that. "It's been three years."

--

Their tales fascinated Dart. If she could, she would tell them her story – the whole truth. But she couldn't. _Ever_. What would they think of her? Once human but now living in a metal body? Most assuredly, she would be locked up or worse – disassembled. A shudder flitted through her frame at the mere thought. Too many questions and not enough answers on her part. So she sat in silence, listening to their words, their histories.

Presently, she asked a murmured question which either femme answered readily-enough: Life outside of war, of the Autobot hierarchies and society in general. Morning stretched into afternoon, and began a slow descent into eve. As the moments ticked by, Dart felt her legs begin to itch, her system start to warm in that warning way. She stood. Two pairs of optics, green and gold, followed her movement.

"May I take a walk? My system overheats if I stay still for too long." She noted the look that passed between her superiors and understood it plainly: _Ah, so that's why she fidgets!_

Solarflare ticked her talons against her lower jaw. "I don't see why not. I have some runs to make, and I'd rather not bore you by sitting here and staring off into space for several cycles." The grey femme glanced at her friend and comrade. Dart turned towards the brown and flame-armored warrior.

"I don't have a problem," she replied after a moment. "Would you like company, though? I've no agenda to attend and I heard that the park has excellent gardens."

_She's going to watch you_, Dart realized. Then, she checked herself. There was a different expression on Flamestrike's face; no concentration, but genuine openness. Well, how else was she going to find acceptance, or at least stave the spy remarks, if she didn't accept companionship? "I walk very fast," she quipped. Flamestrike, to her surprise, laughed.

"So can I," she replied. "Nothing around the Council chambers was done slowly."

Solarflare chuckled and saluted them. "Well, then, ladies. I'll meet up with you at sundown." With a wave, she turned and walked off, back the way she had come, presumably to fly without deterrents, Dart surmised.

Turning, the courier looked at the gryphonic femme. "Lead the way," Flamestrike said, inclining her head. Still surprised with the leniency, Dart watched Flamestrike transform, flicking bladed tail over her haunches. The beaked face smiled and trotted smartly forward to sit expectantly by Dart's side. Overwhelmed, Dart gazed around, peering through the trees for some spot of interest. In the distance, a hill rose, so high and broad that it was nearly a mountain.

"There," she pointed. Flamestrike followed the sweep of her arm and nodded, waiting. Her spoiler itched; Dart shrugged and set off at a smart pace, a running-walk that allowed her enough time to smartly bend around the press of trees. Her pace may have been a bit deliberate, to challenge the older femme, but Flamestrike trotted along well enough, keeping in sight of Dart's keen peripheral vision.

In time, Dart slowed, no longer seeking to challenge the gryphoness. The trees gave way to grass and to a round lake encompassed by an aging wooden fence. The panels came only to calf height, but Dart paused by them, staring up at the rising hill. Flamestrike rested by her side, doglike, laying her beaked head atop the rotting wood.

"Does it seem odd," the gryphoness murmured after a time, "that there's a strip of grass missing from the hill?"

Dart followed the sharp jab she made with her beak. Now that she looked closer, what she'd taken for a trail was a blacked strip, all the grass and plants burned away. "Perhaps a fire, started by hikers?"

"Likely, but I'd like to check it out." Flamestrike turned, loping with surprising speed around the enclosed lake. Dart pivoted smartly on her heel and lengthened her stride, changing leads to catch up to the hybrid officer. She rounded the bend and followed Flamestrike as she leapt the barricades surrounding the base of the hill and charged up the wavy slope. Never pausing or breaking her stride, Dart took the cement blocks with nary a thought or concern. She sailed over them in a perfect hurdler's leap, hitting the uneven ground without stumbling. With her feet firm, she lowered her spoiler and dug in.

The courier ran upwards, turning her head to take in the deep swatch of burnt foliage. It started thin, then spread out to a wide base at the apex of the hill, before coming to an abrupt halt at a small cavern-mouth. To Dart's sensitive olfactory sensors, this scented of all things wrong. She could smell sulfur and ozone, as well as something deeper, something that threw her into a quick tremor. She slowed to a trot, then a walk, bracing herself with the powerful servos in her legs. Above her, Flamestrike prowled, slung low to the ground, stalking the swatch of burnt grass. She stuck her head into the side of the hill, just above the burn-marks.

Dart scurried up the hill just in time to watch Flamestrike slither into the opening. She idled by the entrance until the gryphonic beak poked out. "Inside," Flamestrike hissed, green optics narrowed, searching the sky before popping back within.

Carefully, Dart lowered herself, patting the hillside until she found the ledge. First one long-shanked limb, then the other, followed by the rest of her relatively-short body. Flamestrike stood within, hands on her hips, surveying the rough-hewn cavern. "I wonder …" she mused, half to herself. "Well, there doesn't seem to be any sign of wrong-doing, but I want to look. Take the right, I'll take the left."

The black and silver femme did as she was told, moving towards the sloping wall. She cast her optics downward, forcefully widening the sensors to take in the most detail. What she was searching for, not even Flamestrike could say, but if there was something, it needed to be found. Dart meticulously scanned the wall and floor until she came up short at the cave's small back. The femme halted; she could go no further. A quick check with her own two hands revealed that there was nothing amiss – no hologram, no false panels of rocks.

"Not good," she heard Flamestrike mutter.

Dart spun. "What?"

Flamestrike was standing nearly opposite the courier, squatting down amongst a pile of rocks. As Dart moved to join her, she tugged something rectangular from where it had been wedged behind two boulders. No longer than Dart's forearm, it was green and stamped with the same words over all four sides: **Property of the Center for Disease Control**. The lid was cracked; blue and green optics met. Flamestrike tipped it back and peered inside. _Experimental strain_, read the bold lettering on the velvet inside cover. Flamestrike rocked back on her heels, pulling out a Petrie dish and examined it between thumb and foredigit. "Looks like we're going to have to cut this mission short," she told the courier. "I don't know what this was doing here, but it obviously can't stay."

But Dart wasn't listening; she pawed at a piece of rock in a corner of the cavern. "These are recent," she quietly murmured, opening her olfactory sensors to their fullest, drawing in a "lungful" of air. Scents rushed down her metallic throat, the microscopic particles bouncing around inside her. She took another deep "breath", tasting the air and separating the different scents, cataloguing each one with the same attention to detail that Solarflare would have paid to frequencies and Flamestrike to changes in environment.

A silver-grey hand clutched Dart's shoulder plate. "What's recent?"

"These." Dart pointed to the deep scorch marks on the boulder. "Here: something very hot burned this to slag. See, here's a trail leading out of the cave. It …" She got down on all fours and shuffled across the cavern floor, following the burn trail all the way to the mouth. "… extends to the front. Then, it disappears." She paused again, bending to examine a deep swathe of charred rock, tasting the scent once more. This time, all the paths in her cortex aligned; the molecules identified. _Oh, not good._ A chill ran through her system; instinctively, she looked out, scanning what little of the skies was viewable at this angle.

Flamestrike was at her side instantly, the dish tucked safely in the palm of her hand. "What? Tell me what you found out."

Dart carefully angled away from the infiltrationist, whose headtines were glowing a particularly nasty shade of red. "Well … this cave's seen a lot of activity. Not quite recently, but within a few days of us arriving. See here?" Out of the corner of her optic, she saw Flamestrike hunker down, almost pressing her head to Dart's arm, optics trained on the cavern floor. "There are two trails – one going out, the other coming in. The darkest spot is the point of take-off, where the flame was the hottest – the thinner parts lead up to it. They also show that someone was coming in."

A sound akin to gears grinding issued from Flamestrike's throat region. "You can _track_?" she asked incredulously. There was something else in the other femme's vocalizer: _Is she … in awe?_ Dart wasn't too certain, but the one thing she could count on was that they were in danger. How soon, well, she couldn't say.

Dart shrugged. "A little."

"Well, a little is good enough for me." Flamestrike put the dish to the side and scurried on her knee-joints to the other side of the cavern's mouth. "What else can you discern?"

_I … she won't like this_, Dart thought, her Energon pump churning. "The scent – it's the same type of fuel that Decepticons use to keep their boosters oiled."

Flamestrike hit the roof – literally. She jumped to her feet so fast that she hit a column of rock jutting like a broken tooth from the cave's ceiling. Rock sprayed in all directions as the gryphonic femme danced out of the way, cursing like a sailor – a Cybertronian sailor. Dart was surprised that she recognized all but one of the invectives shooting out of the normally composed infiltrationist's mouth. It was all marginally funny – in a sick, sadistic fashion.

When the dancing stopped, Flamestrike pulled herself together, fanning wings and smoothing her pinions. "All right," she said at last, running a hand over the top of her crest. "We've got to get out of here – quickly. Dart, you call Flare and I'll start packing. I don't know how much time we'll have, so once you've gotten Flare out of the clouds, help me. Only the essentials – supplies can be left. And then we'll make way to the City."

Flummoxed, Dart could only remain in her crouch as Flamestrike picked up the plain plastic dish with its horrific cargo and took the steep slope at a head-long run. Quickly, the courier femme rose and peered out of the cave, watching shale and rock loosened by the destroyed grass following her mission commander all the way to the bottom. The gryphonic femme transformed mid-step and bounded back to camp on four legs, her bladed tail glowing a bright red-gold.

_Okay, now how am I supposed to contact her?_ Dart muttered, casting her optics skyward, but there was no sight – nor sound – of the avian officer. _"Solar … flare?"_ she tried, tentatively throwing a line out into the air. _"Solarflare?"_ she asked, louder. A beat, one thrum of her Energon pump – but there was nothing on the wind but static. Maybe she wasn't trying the right frequency. Of course, that would make more sense – if she knew how to frequency-hop. _Concentrate, Dart. Concentrate. "Solarflare?"_

Sighing, Dart looked around, completely lost. She didn't even have the avian's energy signature – which she knew from experience was required to make contact on a tight band. Well, she had other ways of finding her way around – observation. Idling cost her dearly, but if it meant getting the hell out of here before one of her former comrades found them, it was worth the additional heat.

Gentle summer breezes blew through the oaks and maples, a rustling that would have been soothing at another time. Dart put all her energy into her audio receptors; the sound of the avian femme's boosters was engraved into her central processor. Slowly, she turned, trying to catch vibrations on the wind.

There, in the distance. _Finally_, Dart sighed, turning northward. Deep tremors shook the air, powerful and more threatening than the hum that came from anti-grav boosters. A gun-metal grey Chinook helicopter churned the clouds a mile in the sky or more, hovering the same distance. The purple faction symbol was prominently displayed on its nosecone. As Dart stared, fixated, it began to descend, followed by another sickening roar. Rocketing out of the horizon, trailing clouds and spitting fire was a black Stealth F-117 Nighthawk, its wing edges outlined in green. _Hardly stealthily_, the observant part of Dart's cortex noted.

The deep, distinctive _whumph-whumph-whumph _of the chopper intensified as it grew closer. The femme's feet were moving before any other rational thought could be formed. Dart took the slope in one great bound, her lead-off foot shoving a five-foot swatch of dirt and grass behind her. Rocks and dirt sprayed in a wide arc on the second push – and then she was off. Trees and startled wildlife could only look on in amazement as the lanky femme shot through their domain – a blur of black and silver, flowing through the woods like a metallic sylph, the resounding vibrations from her feet marking her passage. The world around Dart narrowed to the path ahead – a relatively straight line back to their camp. She was running so hard that she nearly flew up Flamestrike's exhaust pipe.

_Brake! Brake!_

Dart sluiced sideways as the gryphonic femme spun around on her haunches, forearms splayed. A miasma of forest litter sprayed Flamestrike full in the face as Dart turned, arms pin-wheeling in an effort to remain upright. Fortunately, the tree she hit did the job for her. _Ow_.

"Dart!" Flamestrike exclaimed, bounding up to her.

_Easy, easy_, came the inner chant. Slowly, Dart looked up. "There are two Decepticons coming – a chopper and a bomber," she said between great intakes of cooling air. "They were headed for the cave."

"_Slag_ …" Flamestrike transformed, plucking her tail from the base of her trylithium spine. "Where's Flare?" she asked, thrusting out a hand. Dart gratefully accepted the senior's assistance, pulling herself from the tangled mess of bark and branches. She stood with her legs spread, brushing off and pulling out any large pieces that would hinder movement.

_Oopse_. "Uh, I couldn't contact her."

"_Slag_!" The earth groaned in protest as the gryphonic femme stabbed her tail-cum-lance downwards, wings fluttering in agitation, crest giving off a faint trail of smoke. She turned her face skywards, and as the rumble of thunder folded over their hiding place, sought contact with the errant avian. Dart watched, at a loss for what to do or say, as the brown and flame-colored femme's face tightened. Flamestrike snatched up her staff with her left hand and dug into a subspace pocket for the plastic dish. "She's been spotted –"

A thunderous _boom_ followed by the distinctive _zing_ of laserfire had both femmes on guard. A raucous scream echoed the thunder. "Dart!"

The courier leed sideways, an unintentional whimper escaping her voicebox, as the petrie dish was thrust into her face. Flamestrike was staring at her with fearsome intensity in her green optics. This close, Dart could see the sensors behind the glass dilated to their fullest. "I need you to run this back to the City – as fast as you can." Another _boom_ rang above them. Flamestrike nearly shoved the dish down Dart's throat as she reacted to the sound. "Take it and _run_!"

Dart scrabbled to grab the dish as Flamestrike dropped it. Her fingers wrapped around the precious but deadly cargo, barely able to tuck it into her palm as a second scream sounded. "But –"

Flamestrike whirled. "No buts! Go! We'll follow you as soon as we can."

Hunching, her spoiler riding as low as was possible, Dart nodded and slipped the dish into her right hip carrier. As her feet dug into the slippery surface of the forest floor, her first worry was being shot on sight, minus her two guardians, as she entered City grounds; not far after, as a dog chases a cat, came the deep-rooted fear that her former comrades would get to her first. If she could choose … _I'd choose the Autobots_. At least it would be quick.

The trees and the sounds of battle quickly faded into the background – and even then, disappeared all together as Dart bolted from the forest, headed for the highway.

--

Solarflare beat her wings and settled on her mountaintop perch; the sun was lovely, the breeze just right. The last of her runs were complete for the day. Everything new about her operating system worked like a dream – better than she had ever thought it could. How long had she endured without the pleasure of long-range communication? Far too long. Now, there was no box to hook up to, no need for a secondary comm unit to be installed on her person to amplify her personal signal. It was blessed, sweet relief; a certain level of independence, marking her importance in the giant cog that was the Autobot army on Earth.

So she sat, listening to the world hum on by. … _hum_? Solarflare cracked an optic shutter, her long black talons biting into the mountain. There was something in the air, a tension that set her pinions and tailfeathers to prickling. Slowly, Flare stretched out her new senses, but although there was a distinct buzz in the air, she couldn't tell what they were saying. _Next lesson … frequency hacking. Fast._ The eagle shifted on her perch and opened her optics as wide as was physically possible, dilating her sensors to the fullest. There was something on the horizon, something that was emitting the buzz. _Definitely not friendly._ And it was coming from the same direction Flare had to take to return to camp. _Goddammit._

_"Solarflare to Blaster."_

He was there, his presence light on the airwaves. _"What's kickin', girl?"_

Flare shook her head as she watched the sky. _"Trouble. Decepticons in the air."_ There, there they were – two of them, flyers both. A chopper and some sort of stealth bomber who was doing his best imitation of Powerglide. Flare relayed her findings to Blaster.

_"I'm on it, baby girl. Sending word to Skyfire and Powerglide. Give me your coordinates."_

Flare's talons on the mountain twitched, biting chunks loose so that they rolled down the face. Instinctively, her wings unfolded, mantling. The Chinook was descending – but the bomber was racing towards her.

_"Solarflare!" "Flare!"_

Two voices rang inside her head – Blaster and … Flamestrike. The bomber peeled off, knife-edge wings slicing through the air, gun turrets lowering from its undercarriage. With part of her cortex, Flare threw her peril to Flamestrike and launched herself into the air, tapping every available energy cell and redirecting them to her boosters. She heard her friend curse, then the world spun as she threw herself wingtip over wingtip in a tight barrel roll. Laserfire popped overhead, and in that moment, she completely forgot about Blaster. Everything in her system was fighting for her survival.

Time and space narrowed; Solarflare spun out of her roll with her wings wide open, hanging in midair. The bomber cut a tight curve, winging all the way around the mountain in order to turn. In the back of her mind, the eagle smirked. _Stupid, straight-winged fool._ With a massive beat of her pinions, she thrust herself higher, trailing cloud vapor. The roar of the bomber's boosters echoed on the wind, the heavy vibrations from his passage shaking the very air around the avian femme.

Flare looped and doubled back, her keen optics cutting through all but the worst of the clouds. He was coming for her, straight on. Laserfire shot through her cover, each superheated blast coming closer than the last. A tendril of panic and a drop of fear wormed into Flare's spark, punctuated by a hit on her lower leg. The laser cut sliced through her thin plating, just above a crucial ankle joint. Unbidden, a cry exploded out of Flare's beak.

_KILL_! screamed the eagle.

She spun, trailing clear fluid and dropping sparks among the clouds, the taunts of the Decepticon mere background noise. Pain replaced fear and panic, striking down her doubts and replacing them with clear meaning. _I. Will. Survive!_ She was avian, a warrior – _Autobot_. And there was only one thing left to do – dive.

Tucking wings and injured leg close to her body, the grey eagle of metal turned her spin into a stoop: Not the stoop of a falcon, but the gravid dive of an eagle lacking the former's streamlined efficiency. The bomber cackled, his laughter snatched by the wind and scattered to the forest floor. Flare's world narrowed to a pinprick of light, a circle with her enemy in the middle. The splatter of laserfire was no deterrent, though one or two shots gouged armor – it was not enough to blow her off course. The wind bit into her nares, whistled by her sensitive audio receptors. All the world was howling like a demon – and perhaps, part of that howl belonged to her.

Closer, _closer_ … too late.

Too late, the bomber realized what was coming. Flare skimmed over his nosecone and at the same time, sank her talons into the armor plating where it was most sensitive. Gravity dragged her the length of his frame, pulling up long sections of armor and trailing wires that spouted great gouts of pink, blue and green fluids. Foam, frothy and tainted with a mix of these colors, splattered her lower torso. This time, she heard his scream and felt his entire body writhe in pain. Satisfaction, deep malicious joy filled her.

The force of her dive pulled her to the end of his body, which began to tip and sway as the Decepticon struggled to maintain flight. Unconsciously, Flare unfolded, spinning her body around on her torso axis. With cruel cunning, she locked her foot talons into the mech's tail section and punched through his armor with one taloned hand.

The screech that issued forth from her prey's vocalizer was more disturbing, more grating on her sensitive receptors than nails on a chalkboard. It shot through her, straight to her spark, disrupting her equilibrium. Gritting her dental plates, Flare pulled, tugging every wire she could wrap her hand around, dragging them out of the Decepticon's body. Vital fluids sprayed in all directions. _One of us will die today, and it's not going to be me!_

Under her feet, her prey shuddered, bucking in a vain effort to shake her loose. Flare knew a sinking ship when she saw one. She leapt into the air, pulling her foot talons from their perch; with wings spread to slow her own descent, Flare watched the bomber spin, tumble away, on a crash course with the forest. As she fell, her boosters useless in rootmode, something pulled her hand to her holster. With a ruthlessness born of almost twenty years of fighting, no longer the naïve girl stuck in a metal body, Solarflare pulled her energy pistol and fired off several shots, more than one hitting the bomber. And then, he was no more, only a trail of smoke and ash disappearing along the horizon.

Flare tucked her pistol away and twisted, a transforming mass of limbs and wings. As an eagle, she streaked earthward.

--

Rage boiled inside Flamestrike, pulsing in her lance and shooting through the top of her head in the form of smoke. Her system processed excess heat in that manner – the only way her body could handle the changes made when she was reformatted from a tri-wheeled speedster to a mythological creature. She stalked the woods, the sounds of battle clear in the air. What little she could see didn't quell the drop of fear welling in her spark. She paced, one audio on the Chinook, the other trained on the sky. The Chinook was coming closer, no doubt drawn to this area by his comrade's battle.

"_FLAME!"_

The gryphonic femme spun. "Flare!?"

Boosters roared overhead, subtle in comparison to the _whumph-whumph_ of the Decepticon and the thunder of the bomber. Something crashed through the trees and landed in a tangled sprawl of fluid and leaves, branches sticking out all over the body that was her avian friend. Flamestrike's cool collectiveness nearly shattered, fearing the worst. She almost dropped her lance in her race to get to Solarflare. "Flare!"

The mass shifted. "I'm … okay."

Flamestrike reached her, shoving her lance into the ground. Relief threaded through her central processor as Solarflare shifted, rising on shaky taloned feet. "It's not all mine," the comm officer reported, her vocalizer strained on the edges. "Just … my right ankle joint."

"Autobot scum! I'll burn your bodies and eat your laser cores for what you did!"

Slowly, Flamestrike stood, uncurling her long and lithe frame. Through the trees, she could see the hulking form of the Chinook chopper crashing through, snapping everything in his path. At her side, Solarflare transformed, metal grating on metal with wooden spikes snapping as they were crushed between the powerful servos. Flame stole a glance at her comrade. The avian femme glanced back, then smiled – a grin that mixed humor with the knowledge that someone wasn't going back to base after this meeting.

"Ready, girlfriend?" she quipped, turning her head back to the woods, to the massive fireball that ignited an acre of forest.

Electricity hummed through Flamestrike, rising from her laser core and threading through her lance. She nodded, shifting her stance. "Ready." The Chinook was coming, passing through the burning trees; she could see the red optics through the fire. Someone wasn't leaving today – she had two suicide bombs in her thighs to make certain of that.

With a roar, the Decepticon burst through the wall of fire. As one, the femmes darted into the woods and began their assault.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dart fled, every limb in free-flowing motion. She ran on the side of the highway, and when that proved impossible, added a few potholes to the center lanes. Her world narrowed to the strip of grey, broken by an occasional glance towards the green signs flanking the highway. She was good at this – running away. Hell, most of her metallic existence was on the hoof, sprinting towards God-knew-what for some reason or another. _Whud-whud-whud_; her thoughts were on tempo with her feet: What would happen if Flamestrike and Solarflare were killed? If she happened to make it back to the City with her cargo, would she be believed? Probably not. Not even if she took it directly to Optimus Prime; the desiccated shells of her commanders would be found and she would be to blame.

_Traitor_.

Dart's shoulder struts and spoiler twitched violently. Maybe … maybe she should run for it. Get the hell away from here – from _both_ factions. There were still areas of Earth that were untainted by either group. Perhaps she could go to one of those locations and make herself useful. _What would you do, Dart?_ she asked herself as she crossed from pavement to a large strip of grass on the right side of the highway. _Rent yourself out in Siberia, pulling sleds?_

A sudden, violent explosion rocked Dart out of her thoughts and nearly had her caroming into the barriers set up along the highway. The black and silver courier leed sideways, all four limbs in motion, rotating like independent blenders to try and save her balance. She sluiced to a halt, dropping to the ground. A second, duller aftershock rippled the turf under her knees.

"No …"

The courier's blue optics flared open, staring back along the highway. There, in the distance, a mushroom of blue-black smoke, curling dusty white at the edges. "No, no …" Dart heard herself say. Slowly, she stood up, watching the end result of a massive explosion along with every other human on the strip. Every line in her system went cold, dead – unresponsive. She was scrap for sure. Static crackled on the edges of her awareness, but she ignored it. Where to go? She had to leave – _now_.

The courier glanced up at the sky, watching the leading edge of the cloud drift on by, blown by the wind. North; she had to run north. As far north as she could run on what little Energon she'd ingested that morning.

Dart took a step, leaning forward to push off. Something stopped her.

The dish.

She had to take the dish back to the City. If nothing else, she owed the two femmes the courtesy of completing their request. But how? She could lope up to the gates and drop her cargo before any of the guards had a chance to react. By the time they aligned their weapons, she'd be long gone. _Yes, I can do it_, she affirmed. She was quicker, faster on two legs than any other Autobot.

"_Dart! What on Earth are you doing? RUN!"_

Startled, the courier pivoted, spoiler flat against her shoulder plates, all sensors on edge. _"RUN!"_ the voice that could only be Solarflare shouted. _"We'll cover you! … This is Autobot Solarflare, hauling hot and running Mark-10.16; sector 82. Flamestrike and I engaged Decepticon fire in Colonial Falls Park. Repeat: Decepticon presence in Sector 82 – Colonial Falls Park. Massive explosion. Three running high and wide on the Interstate. Requesting air support. Returning to City with dangerous cargo."_

Dart was pretty certain she wasn't supposed to hear that transmission, but her spark leapt at the knowledge that both femmes were alive. She scanned the air, testing the wind for the tell-tale anti-grav vibrations. There, those tremors; the atmosphere fairly rippled with power. A beat of the pump, then one more and Solarflare and Flamestrike roared overhead, trailing smoke like ribbons from their limbs and wings.

"_MOVE!"_ came the distinct bellow from Flamestrike. She needn't be told again. The courier pushed off, throwing turf, dirt and rocks behind her. From swift trot, to warm-up lope and straight into an all-out run, she caught up to the two flyers. A glance skyward told her that they hadn't fared as well as their vocalizers made them out to be: Both femmes were streaked with black smoke and leaking pink Energon and green-blue fluids. Armor was cracked in some places, missing in others. What _had_ they done?

"_Ahead, faster,"_ Flamestrike urged, cutting to the right and glancing down at Dart through her sharp green optics. A glance to the courier's left saw that Solarflare was dipping sideways and back as well, trailing a green ribbon of coolant from the corner of her black beak. What _were_ they doing? They were hurt – how severely, she wasn't trained to tell. Why weren't they moving quicker? Dart slowed her own pace to cruise at 100MPH, staring up at her companions. Solarflare bent her head and fixed Dart with slit golden optics.

"_We're _flanking_ you. Run, run as fast as you can; don't worry about us. We're tough old birds."_ Dart's keen optical sensors caught the quirking grin at the edge of the grey femme's damaged beak. She flicked her head forward and stayed staring ahead.

Their concern touched Dart. Usually, she'd be left to her own devices, to guard her own back and to find the way. No Decepticon warrior had gone of his own free will to make sure that she arrived on time, whole and unharried. Not only that, but they trusted her with the cargo – enough to risk their own lives to make sure she got it back.

So, _this_ was what it was like to be an Autobot.

A change in air pressure had Dart looking up again. The two flyers were slipping from one side to the other, switching positions. Something wet and cool fell from the sky and smacked Dart in the shoulder. Without breaking stride, she reached up and touched the spot with her fingertips. Her hand came away coated in a frothy blue-green fluid. A glance behind her showed that there was more than one splotch on the highway … and more than one car had run through them, fishtailed slightly and jerked back onto the road.

A rumble of thunder on the horizon tightened Dart's fuel pumps. One … two jets – one large and white, the other small and red – shot overhead, streaking in the opposite direction. A third aircraft, a green and gold chopper, followed at a slower, steadier pace.

"_Radioed ahead,"_ Solarflare cut in unexpectedly. _"Decom unit … Ratchet and First Aid …"_

"_Flare? Are you all right?"_ This from Flamestrike; the infiltrationist's inner comm voice was slightly strained. Worried. Dart looked up and saw the grey avian slip, her pinions flagging. The roar of her boosters was growing dull. _"What didn't you tell me?"_

"_Just a few severed tertiary lines, Flame. Nothing to worry about; just feeling a bit … tired. That's all. Nothing Ratchet can't fix."_

"_I'll carry you,"_ Dart offered, surprising herself. She didn't even consider that she might not be able to perform the feat, or run at the same speed. It wasn't as if she hadn't toted the grey femme's bulk around before – then again, they'd been rolling around on the ground that time.

"_Do it,"_ ordered Flamestrike.

Solarflare chuckled, sounding strained. _"I can make it."_

"_I'm mission commander."_

"_I'm senior."_

"_I'll push you down if you don't do it yourself. _Then_ I'll tell Sunstreaker about your incident with the tree."_

There was a pause. Dart, arms and legs moving in perfect time, turned to see Solarflare slowly drifting over to fly above her head. Solarflare grumbled as she slowly lowered her bleeding body, _"So unfair …"_ Dart braced herself, spoiler lying flat against the slope of her back armor. She slowed slightly, ready to compensate for the extra weight. She couldn't quell the tremors that ran through her lines as the long black talons, the claws tempered with plasma-infused steel, wrapped around her shoulder struts. Solarflare was all huge feet and wings … she was also bottom-heavy. The courier gasped, her Energon pump coughing within her chestplate then resuming normal function with a heavy kick.

For an hour or more she ran like this, burdened with the compact bulk of Solarflare. Flamestrike flew above, swinging from the left to the right and back again without a distinct pattern. Whenever Dart felt herself lagging, the weight of the avian femme was lifted briefly off of her shoulder plates, giving her much-maligned servos a brief reprieve. The first time this happened, she feared Solarflare was falling off, but the heavy pressure overhead indicated that it was Flamestrike – the gryphonic warrior setting her foreclaws into Solarflare's leading edge and taking on some of the burden.

As she ran, she talked to the grey femme locked in avian mode – nothing special, just some funny anecdotes she remembered from her human days, which she passed off as hearsay. Flare chuckled good-naturedly, and at some stories, laughed outright, nearly shaking Dart's tenuous hold. In return, the comm officer whispered raunchy tales into Dart's audio receptor, shocking the courier with her ribald sense of humor. Well, she _did_ claim to hold company with the giant golden psychopath, Sunstreaker, after all. And so, they traded tales, off and on, with Flamestrike holding her counsel, keeping a keen verdant optic on their surroundings.

Just when Dart's servos could take no more, she heard sirens. Old habits don't completely die, so the courier dutifully trotted off the road, glancing around her to discern the origin of the sound. The wail intensified, appearing to her optics as a large ambulance heading in the opposite direction.

Towing a trailer.

As she watched – and Flamestrike alighted nearby – the ambulance put on a splendid display of breaks, sluicing around the hump of grass dividing the highway. The long white trailer with the Autobot symbol overlapping with a black-lined red cross squealed and jumped against its hitching, bouncing along behind the medical vehicle. The ambulance fishtailed, swaying with the momentum of its rig, before coming to a screeching halt on the side of the road.

"Nice entrance, Aid," Flamestrike murmured. "Here, let's get her down."

Dart braced herself as the gryphonic femme pulled their comrade from the courier's shoulders. Miraculous freedom! Compressed servos whined and groaned, releasing their tensions slowly, almost painfully. Dart immediately launched into a series of cool-down exercises.

"Geez, Aid, drive much?" Flamestrike called out, hands on hip plates.

Dart's audios perked and she swung her head in the direction of the ambulance. The vehicle transformed, reformatting itself into a sleeker version of the CMO, Ratchet. The lower half of the medic's face was covered by a squarish battlemask, rather odd in a healer, and was not given much to expression. However, that was easily fixed by the animated upper half of the medic's face – a bright blue optical band framed by an expressive set of brow ridges.

That was currently sloped in an embarrassed arc. "Well, you can't blame me for getting here quickly," he said.

"Quickly, yes – safely, not really."

The back of the trailer popped open and a yellow Minibot stumbled out onto the grassy strip. He comically clutched the horns atop his helm and spun in a circle. "I might need medical attention after that trip."

Dart gaped, then slid her optics to Solarflare, lying face-down on the edge of the road. Green fluid leaked sluggishly from long, jagged rents over the backs of her wings. Viscous black oil beaded along her back. Dried streaks marred the rest of her back-half, pulled there by the force of Dart's movement. She looked to the Minibot, then back to Solarflare – only to see the medic crouching by her side, all sorts of tools laid out on the ground. _H-how had he moved so fast?_

First Aid glanced up at Dart and smiled with his optic band. Calling over his shoulder, "Bumblebee, ready the stretcher. Flamestrike, I want you inside as well. You seem to have a few wounds that need attention, too."

"I can fly back to the City," the femme countered. "Flare took the brunt of the backlash, not to mention her aerial duel with a Seeker."

Dart watched as the Minibot dragged a long metal tray through the trampled grass and positioned it next to the grey femme. Together, he and the medic lifted Solarflare and settled her on the gurney. With a nod to the yellow mech, First Aid turned his attention back to Flamestrike. "Let me see, in about fifty nanoclicks, your system will power down from battlemode and you'll feel every drained cell. Not to mention you're as vulnerable in rootmode as Solarflare is. And you …" he added, turning to Dart, fixing her with a very level stare. She shrank from the intensity of his uniform gaze. "You're … untouched."

There it was – the doubt. Dart took a step back, then another. Soon he would level the accusation.

Flamestrike stepped up. "She needs to get back to the City, Aid. She's carrying a Class 5 biochemical pathogen. We need a proper containment unit."

"Oh, just let her go. I feel like slag," Solarflare muttered from the gurney. "Bee, can you please get me inside? I hear an Energon drip calling my name."

The yellow Minibot chuckled. "Yes, ma'am!" And smartly wheeled the gurney to the trailer, where he hopped in, pulling it into the hold.

"Go," Flamestrike told her, pointing to the open road. "I guess I'm riding shotgun."

Dart needn't be told twice. Turning on one black heel, the courier rocketed off the grass, hurtling towards Autobot City.

OoOoOoOoO

"Come in!"

The reply was cheery enough. Dart's vents swelled with the intake of air; she pushed aside the white canvas and stepped into the private "room" – which was just a partitioned section of the larger medbay ward. Across from her was a long, burnt-umber tank, filled to capacity with a shimmering opalescent liquid. Solarflare was lounging in the tank, a tray with a mug of Energon at her right side and stacked with various readers – one of which was currently in hand. A diagnostic screen blipped faintly in the corner.

The avian femme smiled as Dart stepped forward, inching cautiously into the room. Her spoiler rode low over her shoulders, nervousness making her edgy. Actually, it was for lack of things to say. "Glad to see you're not dead" was too lame and silence wasn't appropriate for the naturally gregarious comm officer. Dart dipped her head and covered her quietness with motion.

A whole team of Autobots, CMO Ratchet at the head, met her when she skid into the City proper. Someone must have radioed clearance to the gate personnel because there was no barrier across the roadway, nor did she suddenly find herself sprouting holes from laserfire. Coming to a sluicing stop before the gruff medical officer, Dart had pulled the petrie dish from her hip carrier and handed it over. Ratchet merely nodded and gestured for a containment unit. Then he ordered her to the medbay for a thorough decontaminant procedure, never saying a word about their adventures, or commenting on the states of the two femmes. So Dart slunk off to do his bidding, grateful to be out from under his chevron'd gaze. Through the thin shower walls, she heard him barking orders, arranging his staff to deal with the arrival of Solarflare and Flamestrike.

She stumbled out some time later, having been sent through twice, to find the bay populated only by staff and a few repair cases. A kindly Paradron pointed her to Solarflare's cordoned-off "room", having told her that Flamestrike was being debriefed by SubCommander Prowl. She was then told to come back later tomorrow (today) for a quick check-up. Once released, she sought the room the nurse had showed her.

"Did they get it off safely?" Solarflare was asking.

Dart's head jerked up, her spoiler clanging against her shoulder plates. She ducked her head in embarrassment. "I … don't know. I was ordered to decomm."

"Ah … well, I'll find out sooner or later. Sit, Dart. There's a stool over here. No need to stand on my honor."

Fumbling, she scraped the low tripod away from the base of the tank and sat, staring over the rim at the grey comm officer. Something … wasn't quite right. There were smudge marks along Solarflare's face and evidence of welding across her chest … _Still_ … Dart shuddered involuntarily. The femme's wings were missing. It was then she noticed the plastic wrap covering Solarflare's back, held in place by (of all things) duct tape. Without her omnipresent pinions, Solarflare was small and very vulnerable-looking in the star-shining tub. Following her gaze, the grey femme touched her left shoulder.

"I know. They had to remove them because I sustained major damage in the backlash. Primus only knows how I managed to fly."

Dart leaned forward, trying so hard not to stare. "What … happened? I saw the explosion and I thought you were both dead."

Solarflare set aside the reader and shifted in the tub. Liquid sloshed under Dart's optics, carrying a faint odor of Energon and some unidentifiable substance. The grey femme settled uncomfortably against the back of the tub; it was then Dart noticed that not only were her wings gone, but the eagle's head as well. "It didn't take us long to figure out that the chopper had more firepower than both of us combined," Solarflare began before Dart could voice her query. "I managed to draw him off while Flamestrike unclipped her bombs. Now, neither of us are equipped, nor trained for, close combat. But Flame always has two bombs with her, just in case. She calls them 'suicide bombs' because the situation has to be dire enough to use them." She paused and shifted again, giving Dart enough time to consider the ramifications of such a decision. It wasn't a pretty one.

"I had him chase me around the woods. Not fun, considering how _nimble_ I am in tree-top maneuvers." She shot Dart a humorous look and winked an optic shutter. "Got myself shot up in the process. But it was long enough for Flamestrike to set the charges. I drew him into her path and she threw both of them at him – and we hit the air. And the bombs exploded." The avian femme paused again, her charcoal lip components sliding down in a rueful expression.

"That's not … long," the courier felt compelled to comment.

Flare shook her head and looked up briefly. "No. We couldn't give him the advantage of a countdown. Those explosions you saw … we were riding them. That's how Flamestrike got wounded, and I added to my collection." Her sharp white facial planes twisted into a wry grin. "You can't see it, but I don't have my lower legs, either. Those are in for repair as well."

_Well_, Dart mused, staring into the liquid, _that_ _explains why there weren't any additional ripples_.

"But how about you?" Solarflare broke into the courier's thoughts. She leaned forward, sloshing liquid star-stuff over the rim and into the grills below. "Anyone give you trouble? I made sure before they put me in stasis lock to get your clearance …"

Dart shook her head. "No, no trouble –"

The sound of heavy feet and the swish of canvas over a metal pole had both femmes turning their heads. "Ultra Magnus … sir," Solarflare murmured, throwing a quick salute. Dart merely kept her optics averted.

The deep rumble of the City Commander's vocalizer washed over her. "You are free to leave, Courier."

No truer orders were ever spoken. Dart excused herself, ducking politely by the giant commander and beating a hasty exit through the flap. _Now what to do …?_ Her head-down charge brought her cranium to chest with an on-coming mech. "Ow!"

"Ughf, optics forward, Courier."

Slim, steady hands collected Dart under the arms and set her a pace away from her unintentional target. The black and silver femme began to stammer an apology when she recognized the voice. Looking up, she found her optics locked with those of the spy, Mirage. Memories of her being bound by the spy … of her escape … flooded back, replayed in the depthless blue glass of his optics. Mutely, Mirage held up a hand, the other wrapped around a blue-glazed pot holding one of the largest sunflowers Dart had ever seen. He turned towards the canvas-wrapped enclosure. "Magnus?"

Dart nodded, turning her head, spoiler low.

"Be on your way, Courier," the tall, lithe mech told her flatly, turning towards the nearest flap. _You needn't tell me twice!_ she murmured, ready to step off smartly when her upper arm was grabbed in a vice-like grip. Fear and panic flooded her then, suffusing every wire and node. Engine rumbling, she unconsciously set her feet into kick-off mode – but was pulled backwards. _Please, please dear whatevergod might be listening! I didn't do anything!_ Fearful optics sought the mech's own, silently pleading her innocence.

The face she found was mobile, sad – dare she say, _apologetic_? "Thank you for what you did for Flare," the white and blue intelligence officer murmured. And he released her, causing Dart to stumble over her own two black-cast feet. Putting hand to hammering chest, she watched him push the flap aside. Some things she would never understand.


	8. Chapter 8 & Epilogue

Chapter Eight

"Tell me what I did wrong, Prowl."

The SubCommander, once chief tactician for the Ark Autobots, looked up from his datapads. His bondmate had occupied that same seat in front of the holotable since she'd been released from repair earlier this morning. He hadn't disturbed her, of course – he knew better, and he also knew that she was inclined to attack problems on her own. He also knew she expected him to be thorough in his assessments, treating her like any one of his command.

Rising, the white and black cruiser walked over to the table and stood opposite the gryphonic femme. He looked down at the re-creation of events. "Your first mistake was that you did not query the courier extensively. You assumed that Dart was like any other Decepticon – that she could fly, and you prepared your iterary thus. You also assumed that she was able to fight – to handle a pistol – and took with you several armaments to test her abilities. These weapons are now lying in ruin among a smoldering forest." He did not need to look at her face, to know that she was nodding silently. "You did not scout the area beforehand, to see if there was any Decepticon activity; reports from last week are not recent enough when dealing with two high-ranking officers and a defector. Also, you did not scout the area upon arrival." Through their bond, he could feel her disappointment and shame. He let his words rest on her shoulder plates for several nanoclicks before reaching out and touching her hand – an action he would never have taken with a subordinate. But, he did not give voice to the words she undoubtably wanted to hear – and to _not_ hear at once: _It was your first time, Flamelet. Don't worry_. No, he did not say it. And she would be all the better for the omission.

"Go see Solarflare, Flamelet; you've been here all day. I hear she's bouncing off the walls." He aimed a crooked smile at her lowered facial planes.

The brown and flame-armored femme lifted her head and met his optics with a thin, rueful smile of her own. She nodded and touched two fingers to the side of her helm. "Flare?" There was a pause, then Flamestrike's rueful smile turned mischievious. Her hand slid back down to the table. "Mirage is there, reading to her."

"I should have known," Prowl admitted. They stared at one another for a beat of the pump, before Prowl's sentiment kicked in. "Let's go for a walk, my budding tactician." He stood and moved to the other side of the table, offering her an arm as he'd seen many human males do – and, sadly, as he had seen Mirage do so many times for Solarflare. Though, he would never admit to the spy that he was Prowl's template in this whole relationship deal.

The smile on Flamestrike's facial planes was worth it.

OoOoOoOoO

Four days. That was how long Dart was left to wander the halls of Autobot City with nary a clue as to her fate. But it wasn't the waiting that bothered her – it was the _attention_ she was receiving. God help her, she was beginning to prefer the animosity and homicidal glares of the weeks previous! No matter where she went in the City, a random mech or femme would smile, nod and congratulate her on her heroism.

_What_ heroism?

All she did was run – as she was told, no less. They weren't even aware that she considered heading for the hills. _Autobots_, she sighed. So caught up in their ideals that they began to laud her efforts. Almost painfully. Yet, what irked her more than these praise-singers were the naysayers who jumped on the bandwagon for fear of retribution. That turned her gears in all sorts of wrong ways. She had to abandon refueling in the dining commons because of all the people wanting to be her "friend". As if by association, they could advance their rank in espionage or communications. Well, she had recently washed, so it wasn't going to be by scent or feel.

It was in the quiet of the research labs that the runner found her, sipping her Energon and staring out the large bay window at the falls below. "Courier Dart?"

He said the name as if it were a title and not her occupation. Dart glanced at him sideways, eying his long, lean grey frame. "Y-es?"

"Optimus Prime wishes to see you now."

The can of Energon tipped in her hands; only the runner's quick reflexes saved her a dressing down by the lab caretaker. "Now?" she all but whispered. Well, hadn't she been waiting four days for a word? _Hie up, Dart!_

She knew the way by now, but the runner showed her up to Prime's office all the same. He left her at the stairs; she ascended alone, pump beating in trepidation. Her future would be decided here. As she climbed, two voices filtered down the stairwell.

"Pair for two."

"Three of a kind for six."

"Slag … go."

"And one for thirty-one."

"You're scarily good at this Optimus."

Dart paused on the landing, audios canted towards the conversation. Solarflare perched on a chair in front of Prime's desk, a fan of cards in her taloned hands. She was still _sans_ wings, the gaping holes covered with bright blue tarp-like patches. The Autobot commander leaned on one elbow opposite her; he drew a large card from his hand and laid it on the desk. "I find it easier than trying to best Prowl in chess," he chuckled. "Three …" Suddenly, he looked up. The whole universe suddenly shrank until there was nothing left save those huge blue optics. Dart gasped and quickly bent her head, spoiler rattling in apology. "Dart. Please, come in."

Head low, the black and silver femme strolled quickly across the carpet. She heard the shuffle of cards and the scrape of a chair. Then Solarflare spoke: "Excuse me, Optimus." Something rattled on the desk.

"No, leave those, Solarflare. We'll finish the game in a while."

"Best two out of three, I hope?"

"I think I have time for best out of five, my dear."

Dart lifted her head in time to see the grin stretch across Solarflare's sharp-planed face. The avian femme bobbed her head and fairly bounced out of the room, pausing only to clap Dart a hearty one on her left shoulder strut. She watched Solarflare until the femme was down the stairs before turning her quavering attention to the commander.

"You … summoned me, sir?"

"Requested, more likely," the giant replied with fair humor. He gestured to the chair Solarflare had vacated. "Do sit, Dart." He leaned forward at a slight angle as she acquiesced, glancing at the game set-up. A long wooden board with holes and two pegs spaced some distance apart sat to the side. _Cribbage … they were playing cribbage!_ she realized with a start.

"I'd invite you to play," Optimus was saying, "but I did promise Solarflare to stay the game." He turned his head slightly and looked at her out of one optic. "Though, if you happen to glance at her cards …" The optic shutter winked, deliberately.

Dart was taken aback. "I … uh …" she stammered, at a loss with how to progress. Optimus nodded.

"Very well, we'll get to the heart of the matter." He folded his hands over the desktop and fixed her with those depthless blue optics. Dart wanted to cringe in obeisance, but felt a pull stronger than her Decepticon-honed quirks could combat compelling her to return the gaze. And so she did, with a levelness that astounded her. Optimus continued without acknowledging the change in her demeanor. "Both Flamestrike and Solarflare expounded on your heroism some days ago," he said in that low tone that simply resonated throughout her exostructure. Dart cringed inwardly at the word "heroism" but stayed silent. "You were given the opportunity to run, to take your cargo to the Decepticons, but you remained on course. Your offer to carry your wounded comrade merely exemplifies the qualities that make us Autobots. In short, Courier Dart, I've been handed two recommendations to end your probation and to induct you into the Autobot ranks. Which I intend to fulfill."

_Make me … an Autobot?_ The word bounced around in her cortex, latching onto nothingness. What good would that do? Would it make all of her problems go away? Would it make her a better person? … Did she _really_ want to be one of them after all that she had been through? All these thoughts and more flowed through her cortex as she sat in stunned silence before the Autobot commander.

"Dart …?"

Roughly, she shook herself, spraying the thoughts away like so many droplets of water. "Sir?"

"You were gone a while, Dart. Tell me your thoughts."

She looked at the Autobrand upon his shoulders, at the outlined optical regions. The soulless geometric shapes would tell her nothing – not that she expected Primus to issue a proclamation. Still, it would have made things easier. "I …" She paused, turned and rubbed at her arm to collect her thoughts. Prime waited patiently. "I … don't think I could be an Autobot," she said at last, the words flowing from her lip components.

If there was, indeed, a mouth behind the mask, she was sure it was set into a thoughtful frown. Clearly, Optimus Prime hadn't been expecting that. "And why not, Dart?"

She looked at her hands, lying there in her lap. She would tell him the truth – but not the whole truth. No, never … never, _ever_ that. "I don't believe … I belong. There is so much expected … of me. Of being an Autobot." Slowly, she lifted her head, spoiler set low on her shoulders, offering mute apology. "I wasn't much of a Decepticon, and even then, there wasn't much expected of me. Here, there are so many rules and regulations. An … unvoiced code. I'll never be one of you, no matter how many symbols you paint on my body," she admitted, time strengthening her vocalizer. "I'll know it and _they'll_ know it. They already do."

Across the short expanse of desk, Optimus Prime nodded. He was quiet for a moment, then settled in his high-backed chair. "Given the choice, I would prefer to have you with us, Dart. I've watched you more closely than you may have imagined. I see potential, much potential." He vented a small sigh, the first she'd ever heard from the supreme leader of the Autobots. It was … odd. "But I always honor the choice of the individual in cases like these. You are not the first, nor the last to refuse the Autobrand. And I respect your decision."

"Thank you, sir," she murmured.

"It is mutual, Courier. But tell me, what _do_ you wish to do? We have few Neutrals on base, but I sense that you do not wish to be here, either. Even it was with noncombative status."

Where did she want to be? Free … that was it. Free and in the open – with the sun on her face, the wind blowing across her metallic skin. To be free, unburdened. _Alive_. To stretch her servos to their limits and more. Unbidden, the words sprang to her lips. "North, sir. To … Canada, possibly. Long stretches of forest and tundra." And then she saw herself running free out on the open land. Yes, that was it.

"Canada it is, Dart." Suddenly, the great bulk shifted forward, standing until he was rising tower-tall over her. Dart quickly jumped to her feet, knocking the chair back. Her hand hovered awkwardly at her side – did she salute now? "You have my permission to stay as long as you wish, to gather what supplies you might need. And … before you leave, please see me. No matter what I might be doing."

There was a hand, large and blue, hovering in front of her face. Dart's optics flickered before she realized that _Optimus Prime_ was offering to shake her hand. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her slim silver hand and placed it in the huge metal paw. The firmness, the decisiveness in that grasp blew her away. With Optimus Prime, the Autobots would most assuredly … win. She hoped. She had lived under Megatron; her world would not be the same if he triumphed. Nor, sadly, would she.

Prime relinquished her hand almost at the same time she wrapped up her thoughts. He settled back a pace, watching her. And, because it felt right, Dart lifted her arm and saluted the red, blue and white mech. Then, without asking permission, she turned and left the room, plans streaming through her cortex as fast as she could run. Down the stairs she jogged, passing Solarflare lounging against one wall, deep in conversation with a tall black mech.

"D-art?" she called out, but the femme moved swiftly past. She couldn't talk, not right now. Maybe in a day or two, when she was collected. Until then, she needed to be alone.

OoOoOoOoO

"… So, I went back upstairs, and there was Optimus, looking thoughtful. I knew better than to ask what went on, but he seemed so … disappointed."

Flamestrike nodded thoughtfully, lounging on the bench sideways, her feet propped up on a discarded punching bag. The sounds of wrapped taloned fists _thwack_ing into heavily-padded bag punctuated her friend's words. "Did he say anything?"

_Thwack-thwack_. "No. We finished our game – I trounced him in the end. I think he was preoccupied. And I haven't seen hide nor hair of Dart since."

"Neither have I," Flamestrike murmured. "Have you, Sunstreaker?"

The huge golden melee warrior lowered his brow ridge as he stared at her over the rim of the bag. "What the slag do I care about a Decepticon? She could've fallen off the bridge, or gotten lost in the mess hall. Speed it up, girl. I haven't seen punches like that since you landed here," he spat at Solarflare. The grey femme didn't pause in her maneuvers, but she grinned all the same.

"I'm a bit unbalanced, if you haven't noticed."

Flamestrike chuckled, but Sunstreaker, as always, frowned. He had no time for fun and games when he was training his only pupil. This was rather odd, considering his track record with his sparktwin. "Then you work through it. Someday some Con might rip them off and you'll have to compensate. Bleeding, no less. Step it _up_!"

As her friend's efforts redoubled, Flamestrike's attention drifted elsewhere. Half-heartedly, she scanned the gym, looking for a sliver of the lanky femme – a shoulder strut, a spoiler, the tip of her foot. It was in vain; there was no sign of Dart. What if she was out on assignment already? Flamestrike's wingtips twitched at the sudden revelation. But, so soon? The senior infiltrationist was too experienced to assume such an assignment would require her knowledge; yet, if that was the case, it would have passed in front of _Prowl's_ desk. No such assignments requesting speed had come up in the past two days. _Enough overtracking, Flame_, she chastised, returning her attention to Sunstreaker and Solarflare.

"Flamestrike?"

"Ee-ah!" All of Flamestrike's armor shook as she spun herself away from the bench. She pivoted, wings fanned out, only to find Dart stepping backwards with her hands held up. "_Primus_, Dart. When did you get to be so stealthy?"

The slim femme put a hand to her chassis and flashed her a small, rueful smile. "Dancing around homicidal warriors makes you that way," she replied.

"Ah, like Sunny here," Solarflare chimed in, joining Flamestrike. The golden melee warrior snorted and muttered words that did not bear repeating, stalking off into the depths of the gym. Solarflare stripped off her gloves and tied them together, hanging them off her right shoulder strut. "Where've you been, girl? We were wondering what happened."

Dart shifted her weight from foot to foot. When she looked up, her facial planes were sloped with remorse. "I'm … leaving."

_Leaving_? "Wait one nanosec," Flamestrike interrupted. "_Why_?" At her side, Solarflare was frowning, the tines of her helm rattling. The gryphonic femme stared long and hard at the courier's stance, at her expression. She could be guarding information or she could genuinely be trying to conceal her sorrow. But _leave_? When she was finally accepted? It didn't seem right.

Dart vented a sigh. Then she lifted her head and for the first time, Flamestrike truly saw into her optics. She'd always known that they were an un-Decepticon shade of blue – Autobot blue no less – but the depth, even for their glass composition, was startling. How could she have ever been angry at the courier? "I can't stay," she said simply. "This wasn't meant for me. I … wanted to say goodbye before I left."

"Goodbye?" Solarflare whispered. Flamestrike snaked a glance at her wingmate's face. She could read the whirl of emotion on Solarflare's sharp planes – shock, apology, _shame_. Flamestrike couldn't blame her – both of them were guilty of giving the courier a difficult time.

"Yes." Dart nodded. Her gaze flickered from femme to femme, to the ground before sweeping back up. "I also want to say … that I appreciate what you did for me. I understand that it was difficult for you – and I don't blame you for it. But, thank you all the same."

"Dart …" Solarflare began, but the courier shook her head. To the ranking femmes' surprise, she lifted her hand and sprinted out of the room.

In disbelief, Flamestrike turned to Solarflare. "Did you ever …?"

"No clue …"

"Where would she go?" Flamestrike mused, staring at the open doorway.

"Hopefully off the end of a cliff," Sunstreaker's gruff voice interrupted. "Enough crying, ladies. Let's get to work." And he threw two pugel sticks at them, staring pointedly at the sparring ring.

As if they were one system, the femmes sighed in sync. Such was the consequence of warfare – so little time to contemplate loss. Flamestrike picked up both sticks and handed one to Solarflare. They had work to do. Flamestrike flicked her optics to the door one last time. _Goodbye, and good luck_, she thought to the former Decepticon, before ducking under the ropes. _Maybe you'll need it, maybe you won't. From what I've seen, you can do just fine._

OoOoOoOoO

--

OoOoOoOoO

Epilogue

The early morning chill was already dissipating when Dart stepped outside. Dew beaded on her silver and black armor, only to shimmer and evaporate. In the distance, the sun peaked over the horizon, spilling red-gold light over the valley, painting Lookout Mountain in bold, majestic tones. It was all too beautiful, Dart realized. Even the sharp angles and battle turrets of Autobot City looked … peaceful. Soon, though, it would be morning and the City would be revealed as it always was – the base of Autobot operations.

No one stopped her as she passed through the gates and started walking across the bridge. Her subspace pockets had been filled to capacity with packs of Energon chips, flasks of oil and other necessities. The leather satchel she carried over one shoulder strut held what little possessions she'd accumulated in her year among the Autobots, as well as navigation tools and a passkey fashioned by SubCommander Prowl to allow her safe journey through Autobot territory.

Dart paused and favored the City one final glance. A dual wind passed overhead, fanning her helm. Startled, the courier looked skyward in time to see two winged shapes soar above and away – back to the orange spires, blocks and turrets. They alighted and transformed – Solarflare perching, Flamestrike standing. Air caught in Dart's ventilators; Solarflare waved, Flamestrike saluted: _Goodbye_.

"Goodbye, my friends," the former courier whispered. With a shift of her shoulder plates, she settled the pack.

And with a powerful thrust of her right leg, she was off, sprinting over the bridge.


End file.
